A Day in the Life
by Witch0fTime
Summary: Everyone has a reason to hate themselves. Everyone is an outcast in their own minds. For some, that goes a little further. I DO NOT MEAN TO BE OFFENSIVE IN ANY WAY. Many of my friends are in the same situation as those mentioned in this story. I'm trying to raise awareness and write a good story. Trigger warning: suicide (to come), beatings, drunkenness, bullying, etc.
1. Karkat

Karkat Vantas wandered through the hallways, head down, as close to the wall and as far away from the windows as he could possibly be. His full-length coat covered his entire body, so only his face was visible to the passing students, and even that was turned away, studying the wall intently. Or at least, he would have been if he could properly see the wall.

He couldn't see the faces of the other students, but he knew from experience what they would look like. Some would have wide eyes, staring shamelessly at him. Others would look at him for a moment trying to find what was off about him, then realize and look tactfully at the floor. Still others would point, supposedly inconspicuously, and whisper to their friends. Karkat tried not to think about it.

He repositioned the hat that graced his head, the mass of pale cream hair underneath quietly angry at being contained. Karkat was the only student in the whole school who was allowed to wear a hat indoors under the pretense that it shaded his face. He knew it was for his own protection, but sometimes he wished that he didn't have yet another marker to set him apart from everyone else. Yet another reason for everyone to hate him.

He knew that they did hate him. Either that or fear him. Because he was different. And when something isn't like you, you are afraid of it. You want to remove yourself from it. It is like a cancer, an ulcer, a disease, and you are scared that if you get too close you'll be infected. And so they detoured noticeably around him in the hallways. The teachers were too nice to him, always allowing him to sit in the dead center of the front row so he could see the board, or the seat farthest from the window. His parents were too concerned, pasting him with sunscreen every morning even in the dead of winter, and then forcing him to wear this disgusting overcoat. But he knew that beneath all of that, what it came down to was fear. No one dared touch him for fear that they would receive from him what he was so obviously tainted with.

He trudged into his next class. Even this late into the school year, the students couldn't help staring at his too-pale complexion, his strangely colored eyes. He bowed his head in repentance. _I didn't mean to be born like this. I really didn't. Please don't look at me_. His silent plea went unheeded, and he dejectedly seated himself in the dead center of the front row. He knew behind him, fearful glances and derogatory notes were being passed by the derisive winds that carry such things.

The teacher began lecturing about whatever it was she hoped to drill into the apathetic students that sat before her. Every so often her eyes would wander through the class, gauging them. When her eyes reached Karkat, they lingered just a little too long. Karkat stared decisively at a bit of graffiti someone had left on his desk. _Let me out of this hellhole_, it said. Karkat could only agree.

The class around him began giggling and pointing. He snapped out of his daze to find the teacher looking at him expectantly. "Well, Mr. Vantas?"

"Well what?" he spat at her defensively.

"The answer. Do you know it?"

"Well how the fuck should I know? I didn't even hear the goddamn question." Karkat sank deeper into his world of isolation with each word. Inwardly, he cursed his constant abrasiveness, but it was a defense mechanism developed from years of being rejected and ignored. There was nothing to be done to change it.

"Mr. Vantas, would you please make your way to the office?" The teacher handed him a small pink slip she had been filling out a moment before.

Karkat sneered at her. "No, as a matter of fact. I will not 'please' go anywhere. I will drag my fucking feet all the way there because there is an innumerable quantity of places I would rather fucking be. Like maybe six fucking feet under." He snatched the slip out of her hand and stalked out of the classroom.

The walk through the hall allowed him to blow off some steam, even as he cringed in the shadows like an inhuman monster. He needed something, he knew that much. A friend, maybe. A therapist. A life. Pigment in his skin. But all of these things were forever out of his reach. His defect, as he was determined to call it, and his temperament had seen to that. Drearily, he made his slow, meandering way to the office, where he sat in the plastic chair and first his counselor, then his vice-principal thundered the same reprimands and condolences that they did every day, their words washing over him as he sat in stony silence, glaring morosely at them.

At last, they left him alone, and Karkat felt himself falling as he so often did into the pit of his own design that lay in wait for him every day, a loyal companion and a hated enemy. The pit of depression and self-loathing and, most importantly, total isolation. The abyss that sank down into oblivion forever and ever, that he fell deeper and deeper into but never reached the bottom, but that protected him from outside forces better than anything else ever could. That didn't judge him for his strange coloration. Because that was all that mattered. That he was protected from the outside by an impenetrable shield, even one of his own design. So that nothing outside could hurt him, tie itself to him, make him attached to it. Because he knew that everything in the world he had ever loved had spat in his face, laughing as it did so.

He closed his eyes. Tumbling down.

And down.

And down.

Into the void.


	2. Aradia

"Don't look at her or she'll cast a spell on you!" Giggling, followed by a sudden silence as her gaze swept across them. Aradia Megido cast her eyes down at the floor once more, her tattered grey skirt flowing eerily around her legs. Her mass of dark hair fell around her face, a convenient blockade to keep the jeering faces out. She clutched the small package in her hand tighter, feeling the edges cutting into her skin. Something clicked inside her backpack as she shifted it slightly on her shoulders. She smiled, the sound of wood on wood both a comfort in this friendless time and a sign that she was needed for conversation.

The tardy bell rang, but she didn't pay it any mind. The other kids looked at her strangely, but she did not let that distract her. She knelt on the ground, assuming a sort of prayer position, and brought her backpack to sit in front of her. Pushing it slightly forward, she undid the rubber band around the small deck of cards she had clutched so obsessively. Fanning it out in front of her, she selected three cards at random and placed them in a shallowly concave arc around her knees. She flipped them over in quick succession from the left to the right and studied them intently. The Moon card, upside down, then the Emperor card, again upside down, and finally the Fool card, shining brightly in its proper orientation. Aradia smiled knowingly, then continued with her complex ritual.

Slowly, reverently unzipping it, she brought out a small, battered wooden rectangle. Letters, numbers, and a few words were burned painstakingly precisely in even rows along the face with several pentagrams and signs of incredible importance around the edges. She then pulled out the accompanying planchette and five candles, placing them in a circle around herself and the board. Next she extracted the small lighter out of its concealed pocket, lighting the candles in a star pattern and murmuring something to herself. Then she closed her eyes, placed her delicate fingers on the planchette atop the board, and waited.

"You called me?" she whispered softly, anticipatory.

The planchette glided across the board without hesitating. **Yes.**

"What's wrong?"

**They're watching you.**

"I know."

**They don't understand you. Does it not tire you?**

"It does sometimes." A confused teacher poked his head out of the door. All he saw was a mass of pitch black hair that seemed to be slightly floating and rising wisps of smoke.

**He's watching you now.**

"Go away now," Aradia said lightly, playfully, voice eerily calm. The teacher jumped a bit. She turned slowly, her eyes rolled back in her head, freakishly showing only the whites. "I said go away now." The teacher was frozen. Her voice deepened. "Go, now," she hissed. The teacher ducked back into his classroom frantically, eyes wide and wild, the door slamming behind him. She laughed maniacally. The planchette vibrated anxiously under her fingertips, and she focused her mind once more.

**Soon you will meet someone.**

"Oh?"

**Someone who will be your friend.**

"A friend..." her thoughts drifted wistfully. She hadn't had a friend since sixth grade, since the voices had first started talking to her. Then the laughter had turned to fear and the friendship to ashes. But that was fine. The voices kept her company. They were always there for her.

**You must not frighten him away. He is important to your future.**

"Don't worry." Her eyes rolled into their proper positions again, but remained glazed over. "I don't think he will be the kind of person easily frightened."

**I must leave. They're coming for you.** The planchette slid across the board to point at the beautifully scripted **Goodbye** at the bottom.

"Goodbye," Aradia murmured softly, still in a daze. The instant the word had left her lips, her back arched painfully and she let out a small cry, her eyes refocusing. The five candles around her flickered and then died simultaneously. A voice from above her head spoke harshly.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

She looked up at him, her heavy makeup and haunting eyes momentarily disorienting him, as she carefully packed her things back into her bag. "You will take me to the office now."

"This is the last straw, Ms. Megido. If you cannot properly contain your..." he paused, searching for words that wouldn't come, before blazing over his inability with quick, worthless words. "If you cannot contain yourself, we will have no choice but to suspend you."

She repeated herself, her voice lowering to the same demented growl as before. "You will take me to the office now."

The man seemed not to register that she had spoken at all except to blink irritably. "You leave me no choice. Please come with me to the office."

Aradia smiled, her eyes already unfocused as one of the many voices whispered in her ear. The man put a heavy hand on her shoulder, succeeding only in maintaining his image as he thwarted her non-existent attempts at escape, and guided her down the hallway to the office. As they reached the door, she began to laugh madly.

"What's so funny?" The harsh man demanded.

"They told me that you have nothing on the inside. No light, no hope, no love. Just a silly old man inside a silly old carcass." She laughed again.

The man blinked several times, then opened the door and pushed her roughly inside. She half-fell into the nearest plastic chair, still giggling softly. She could hear yelling inside one of the offices with the frosted glass. Aradia's face clouded with slight confusion before she cocked her head to the side, and then laughed again.

"Those silly stupid counselors don't understand anything, do they? But don't worry. We understand." She paused again. "Yes, I know. I'll just have to be patient. He'll come out eventually." She brought her backpack up onto the chair next to her, unzipped the first pocket just enough to reach her hand in, and stroked the side of the Ouija board lovingly. "And I'll be waiting when he does."


	3. Tavros

"Um...excuse me...pardon me...I can't...uh..." The boy in the wheelchair sighed as he resigned himself to wait in the small niche in the wall until all of the other students were in their classrooms. As the other teenagers rocketed by, too quickly for him to register their faces, they kicked his bulky prison, little vibrations registering in his arms and back but nowhere below that. He closed his eyes, the ever-present tears threatening to spill over._ Just go go go to class and stop kicking me please just leave me alone and disappear I just want to get out of here._

"Mr. Nitram? You're going to be late." The teacher across the hall stared at him with pitying eyes. Those merciless eyes that stabbed at his resolve every day._ I know I'm paralyzed. You don't need to remind me of it every second of the day with your pity._

"I know, I just...couldn't..." he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence through years of habitual uncertainty. The teacher nodded knowingly. He could see the dreaded words forming on her lips, but could not cut her off fast enough.

"Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine," he practically whispered. A deep, throbbing pain within him started up again as it always did. He slowly pushed himself out into the hallway, leaving the teacher behind before she could see the tears slipping silently down his cheeks, his willpower useless as always.

_Why am I so futile?_

He wheeled into his next class nearly five minutes late. The teacher opened his mouth to reprimand him, but seemed to think better of it and said nothing.

_Why can't you just yell at me like you would a normal student?_

His teacher slowly stood up, walking to the front of the room to draw down the powerpoint screen. After a few attempts at grabbing the small wire handle, he asked if one of the students could come and help him. One of the basketball players obligingly stood and lowered the screen.

_I should be the one getting it down for him._

The teacher then began the powerpoint, talking on and on about the rule of Elizabeth the First of England. In his shame at being late, he had not properly positioned himself and so could not very well see the powerpoint, allowing him the perfect opportunity to reflect on all of the facets of his uselessness.

_Why did it happen to me? What did I ever do to deserve this?_ A wild, primal rage bubbled ominously within him, but the anger, so quickly stirred, died just as easily. He didn't have the courage to be angry, primarily because he was scared of what would surface if he succumbed to it. He was scared that all of his pent up frustration would pour out in a single moment. I don't want...

What didn't he want?

_I don't want anyone else to get hurt the way I got hurt._

Another tear slipped down his cheek as the memory replayed itself easily like a well-loved scene of a movie. The ever present voice of his own personal hell made itself known again.

_Hey, Tavros! Boy, I haven't talked to you in an entire hour! My, how time flies. Say, do you remember when this happened?_

_Out of control drifting no one to steer too sharp of a turn oh god no help me someone please I don't want to die useless bundle of skin and bones tumbles outward from drivers seat nothing to help cliff falling_

_falling_

_falling_

_thud._

_Nothing._

_Gee, wasn't that a great time? Gosh, don't you wish you could relive that moment every single day of your life? Well, don't worry! I'll always be here to do that for you. Because that's what I'm here for. Wanna see it again?_

Tavros was too scared and tired and just beaten down in perpetual defeat until there was nothing left to fight, to bother with answering the figment of his imagination that taunted him so.

_Laughing and turn and slide of drunken body too much drink and laughter dies scream help please no trapped nothing to be done reflexes slow and nothing to do_

_nothing_

_nothing_

_nothing_

_whack._

_Legs gone._

_Round and round and round they go, and where they stop, nobody knows! Golly, memories are so great! Well, I'll see you around, Tavros old boy!_

Tavros found himself spiraling into total consciousness again. The bell had rung once more, signaling the end of the day. The other students in the class were standing up, packing away papers and books, laughing at jokes and talking excitedly about events to come. No one even looked at him. The most obvious thing in the room, and yet the most ignored. No one wanted anything to do with him.

_That's your own fault._

The voice never left him alone. But it never told a lie. It was his own fault. After the accident,

_Oh, is that what you're calling it? I thought it was just drunken stupidity! My bad._

he had cut himself off from everything. Stopped talking to anyone ever. Lost all ability to assert himself. Resigned himself to be just the kid in the wheelchair.

That poor, defenseless, useless kid in the wheelchair that can't do anything for himself. That just blends into the background because no one wants anything to do with him because he refuses to respond to their polite advances. That sometimes wishes that he could just shrivel up into a tiny little speck and never be seen again because that would be better than the useless lump of nothing that sits in a padded chair all day.

_But you can't say that, can you? Those dratted habits you started! What was it again? Not being able to say a whole sentence? Geez, what a doozy! And having no confidence in yourself at all? Well, naturally. You couldn't even save yourself from falling off a cliff. How could you do anything else? The voice cackled evilly. But don't worry, Tavvy old boy. I'm here, never you fear! I'll always be here to remind you of everything you've done wrong and everything you can't hope to change!_

Tavros sighed. "I know..." he muttered to himself. His head hung down in absolute defeat. Painstakingly slowly, he wheeled himself out into the noisily boisterous hallway, wishing only to get to the rendezvous point where his Special Needs bus picked him up. The Special Needs bus that he hated so much.

_I can do it myself!_

_Except you can't. Did you remember that part?_

_But that's okay! I'll always be your companion. Because the best part is, you can't get rid of me!_

Tavros continued in stony silence, maneuvering his way between the oblivious, ignoring teenagers and trying not to think about all the ways to kill himself. Because that was all he could do.


	4. Sollux

The lights burn down and blind can't see anything eyes on fire. Senseless jabber on all sides pierce skull head throbbing. Smells drift perfume too much perfume can't concentrate can't walk can't think. Curl up and slide down and close eyes plug ears _please please please stop._

" !$#^%&?" senseless gibberish only increases pain and mouth open but no sound escapes words elude and too much noise noise noise. Open eyes again and scream scream scream from the pain woman standing over jerks back, fear terrorizes her face and she speaks again, "Sollux?" but cannot respond too much all at once just too much.

Students stop and stare and glare at them. Finally find a voice and scream and scream and scream. Woman waves them on and they see only a screaming, insane, impaired child and never look beyond the shell and the _noise never stops_ and the _lights hurt_ and the _perfume and the cologne and please just make it stop._

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" Repeated over and over and why does no one listen no one understands and hand on back tries to help stand but hurts _the touch hurts_ and scream becomes wordless again.

Lifted up and forced to move and on and on carried on and on and screams echo back through empty school halls and hurt more. Hands clamped over ears and scream forever. Placed gently down on something soft and hand pats head _pain_ throbs with each _pain_ impact _pain_ just

"STOP!"

A little while later glare from corner at nurse as she tries to be soothing. She speaks as if to a child. _I'm not a baby. I can understand what you're saying now._

"We're going to try to get a hold of your parents again, okay Sollux?" The tone is too sweet, and the words make no sense. How can she hold his parents if they aren't here?

Look at floor bury head in knees and scream mentally. Frustration turns to anger rage boiling and bubbling and frothing joins the thousands of other pent up emotions that have no outlet no words. Hunch shoulders and wish that the nurse would understand but she never does she can't she doesn't know what it's like and everyone else is outside.

Nurse places phone on cradle again, noise strikes in ears like a thousand drums cringe away and hope she just leaves _just leave me alone_. She speaks slow, deliberately, as if you were unable to understand her. "I am going to leave the room now, Sollux. Stay here please?" Don't respond to the silly idiot woman she doesn't deserve anything she doesn't know can't fathom the pain. She sighs and the door closes softly, click of the lock slicing again and nothing to do nothing nothing nothing.

_Focus on breathing focus breathe breathe breathe._ Old systematic routine kicks in.

_Seventeen times one hundred forty-two is two thousand four hundred fourteen divided by seven hundred is approximately three point four four eight five seven to the sixteenth power is approximately four hundred million one hundred fifty-four thousand four hundred fourteen point zero nine eight one four._

Calm descends and fingers itch _itch_ for computer keyboard stand shaky light no longer burning and rummage through desk through desk so messy everything unorganized put in neat rows perfect rows alphabetized and find small portable computer. Easy to guess password and open word processor and type type type computer language comes swifter than spoken language, easy and obvious.

Bell rings again outside and the others blather on and on and on their senseless words meaning nothing and walking walking walking. _Ignore them ignore them they don't understand me_ but the computer makes sense and _never treats me any differently than anybody else_ gives the same error messages and takes the same code and requires the same attention as from the others _the others that aren't like me_.

Nurse comes back in eyes widen then smiles fake fear and distrust in her body language pick up the small eye movement hand gestures biting of the lip. "Is that my computer?" she whispers and refuse to respond to her why should I? she didn't help only the keyboard and the word processor and the program calm.

"Well, the board decided you can stay here in my office until school is done. I'll just...go somewhere else." Voice drops off and whisper shows that _she thinks I will attack her if she takes it away_ and she might be right _I've done it before_. Door closes no longer throbbing and only the small clicking clacking flowing of the only language that always makes sense and the only sound that never bothers and the only light that never blinds.

Typing strings and strings and strings on and on and on and on

and on

and on

and on.


	5. Nepeta

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I...sorry...excuse me..." Apology after apology flows out unchecked as a petite, quiet, lithe girl makes her way uncertainly through the crowded hallways. She cringes as she brushes another person's arm. "I really am sorry..." No one pays her any mind.

_You can do this. It's just this last stretch of hallway and then you're in your classroom. How hard can it be?_

Unconsciously, she steps out into the intersection and is instantly rammed into by an upperclassman. He glares down at her, sneering in disgust. "Get outta my way, you stupid freshman," he growls menacingly before guiding her forcibly to the left by her shoulders and continuing on his way. Students standing nearby stare with mouths agape at the utter gall and rudeness of the boy, but before they can offer condolences to the poor freshman she has disappeared into the bathroom, only a flash of light olive green surrounded by the dull pinkish-cream of the tile walls.

_I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I really didn't mean to be in anyone's way._ The poor, tiny girl cannot contain the tears, and they flow torrentially down the sides of her face. "He was right. I am just a stupid freshman," she whispered. She gulped a great, hiccuping breath. "Just a stupid, lost freshman."

The door to the bathroom opens with a crash, and a small group of girls enters, laughing and chatting. As much as she tries to stifle her tears and melt into the wall, there is nothing to be done.

"Hey, what's wrong?" The nicest of the girls approaches cautiously, placing a gentle hand on crying freshman's head.

The two make eye contact for just a moment before the smaller one looks quickly away, cheeks flushing from shame. "I...I...I'm sorry..."

"What are you sorry for? You haven't done anything. What's your name?"

"N-Nepeta. Please, I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not a bother. Now, what happened?"

"I am a bother...or at least, I think I am...please stop pretending I'm not...if you are...I don't mean to assume...Just...I don't want to make you late to class..."

"Jeez, stop being so stressed out." The girl smiled. "My next teacher won't mind."

But Nepeta was too far down the rabbit hole now. "I am too stressed out...you're right...I'm sorry." She sniffles and began to cry again. "Please, don't talk to me. I wouldn't want you to waste your time. I mean...I don't mean to tell you what to do...I'm sorry...I just don't want to make things worse..."

"Hey, let's get outta here. She's weird, and I'm gonna be late. Your hair looks fine." Another of the girls grabs the one trying to help by the arm, and a moment later they are gone.

Nepeta buries her head in her hands, silent tears still streaming down her face. "Why am I so stupid all the time? I never do anything right..." Her throat closed up, stealing her words away. _And now those girls and that senior and everyone in the halls that saw me hates me. How am I supposed to make a friend now?_

Slowly, she stands on legs shaking from uncertainty. The face in the mirror, streaked red and shining, stares back at her accusingly. _I'm so ugly...everyone else looks so beautiful and I look like this. Those other girls...they were so pretty. Why can't I be pretty like that?_ She brushes futilely at her hair for a few moments, trying to get it to do anything but stick straight up and out to no avail.

_Just another thing to add to the giant list of things I'll never be. _The tardy bell for class rings in the distance and the final footsteps in the hall disappear.

_I should go to class._

_But what if they make fun of me? What if they see I've been crying and they all laugh? I mean, it's not even a what if at this point. And I know I did all of the homework wrong...so I'll have to ask questions...and everyone will think I'm stupid. And then I'll start crying again which will make them laugh harder. And then I bet even the teacher will think I'm just a stupid little girl. Because that's what I am._

"Just a stupid little girl." The words tumble out, each one laced with the kind of anger that rises from being unable to change her own fate. "And that's what I will always be. Just a stupid, ugly, clumsy little girl."

With nothing better to do, Nepeta unzips and takes off her beloved olive green jacket. She shoves her backpack into the corner farthest from the door, leans against it, and seeks refuge in the deep folds of her well-worn jacket._ This is all I have left now. The only thing left from my old life. Before I moved..._

She curls up tighter underneath the sweater. _And now I am lost and alone in this huge school and everyone thinks I'm stupid or ugly and I have no talents at all. How am I ever going to fit in?_

The door creaks open slowly and a teacher steps in. She glances around for a moment before her eyes light on the small green bundle in the very corner. "Nepeta?"

Nepeta hears her name called and begins to cry again. "I'm sorry," she moans defensively. "Please don't hurt me."

The teacher takes a step back. "No, never. I'm here to help." Cautiously, she reaches forward and lifts the sweater up and away to reveal a very thin, very upset young girl. "Did something happen?"

"I didn't mean to...I'm sorry...please go back to teaching...I mean...I don't want you to think I'm telling you what to do...or that I'm cocky...I'm sorry!"

"Sweetheart, I'm on break now. Let's stand up, dearie. Come on, there we go. Now tell me, what's the matter."

Between sobbing hiccups, Nepeta manages to relate what had happened. The teacher nods knowingly. "Sometimes upperclassmen can really be rude to younger folks. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Nepeta opens her mouth to apologize again, but the teacher cuts her off. "Now we'll have none of that! You haven't got anything to apologize for. So just don't beat yourself up anymore, alright? Now, darling, would you rather I take you to the office or back to your classroom?"

Nepeta panics. "I...I don't know...I don't want to be a bother...and...they hate me...I don't know." Fresh tears form, outlining her wide jade eyes.

The teacher bites her lip for a moment before deciding for herself. "I'll take you to the office." Nepeta nods, willing to go along with the decision but unable to make it for herself. Together she and the teacher make their way down the empty hallways to the office. "Now I want you to wait in here for a moment while I go and see if I can't dig up a phone number to call home, alright? Just sit here." The teacher gives one more reassuring smile before leaving, the door closing slowly behind her.

Nepeta stares at the door closing, then turns her attention fearfully to the two plastic chairs against the wall and, more specifically, the girl occupying one of them. Her dark hair flows ominously around her shoulders and she is muttering and laughing to herself.

_But that nice teacher lady told me to sit here, and if I don't she'll be angry with me and then I'll be alone again._ Working up her courage, she slowly makes her way across the room and sits next to the girl in the torn grey skirt.


	6. Kanaya

She could hear them laughing.

Not all of them laughing, and not out loud, but she could hear them laughing. She could hear them laughing so hard that the walls of the school shook with it, bounced it back and amplified it a thousand times until she was ready to scream but there was nothing to scream at. Nothing except herself.

Kanaya Maryam stalked down the hall, rushing and dodging and weaving blindly through the crowd, trying to hurry so no one would notice her. So that no one that didn't already know would see it. But she knew they did because she could hear them laughing.

She could hear them whispering, too, sometimes. She tried to shut it out, but how can you shut something out if it's not really there?

"Have you seen them?"

"Her...?"

"Yeah. I heard that she files them to a point every night."

"Weirdo."

"Tell me about it."

The whispers were always followed by the laughter.

Ducking and bobbing and turning her face away from everyone who tried to make eye contact, she at last spotted a place of refuge. A bathroom. But before she could make it inside, there was a commotion, and a yelling, and a young, crying girl in olive colors took her sanctuary. She cursed herself. _I can't go in there now. She'll see, and then she'll make fun of me too. She'll be one of those laughing voices I can hear in my head._

With no other option, Kanaya trudged wearily to her math class. The instant she stepped into the doorway, however, she balked. Not because of all of the faces that turned to stare at her. Not because of the notes that were almost ritualistically passing back and forth. But because of the unfamiliar teacher squinting at the computer screen in the back. The two words that haunted her existence raced through her mind, her heart beating at a hundred miles an hour.

_Substitute teacher._

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run, to hide, but she couldn't leave now. Everyone would know she had been there and left. They would have another reason to laugh at her. Slowly, as if in a dream, she took her seat in the very back of the classroom.

The last bell rang. The substitute teacher stood with a great, heaving sigh and walked to the front of the class. "Alright students, I'm Mr. Darcy, and since your regular teacher," here he squinted at a piece of paper on his clipboard, "Mrs. Mahonek, can't be here today, I'll be here teaching your lesson. But first things first, I have to take role. I can't seem to get the computer to work properly, so I'm just going to do it old-fasioned." Kanaya's heart sank deeper with every word. Small daggers seemed to rip into it, and her eyes were wide with fear. The names were called off, each student having no problem replying to their name. Each time Kanaya cringed, waiting for her name to be called.

"Trevor Malone?"

"Here."

He stared a moment at her name, not quite sure how to pronounce it. "Kanaya...Maryam?"

Silence. Her mouth was tightly closed. _I will not say anything. I will NOT say anything._

"Kanaya Maryam?" the teacher repeated.

"She's here, she just doesn't want to answer," a girl in the front row said evilly, turning to shoot a wicked smile at Kanaya.

"Well, why ever not?"

"She just doesn't like to talk much. It's a shame really."_ Please stop. You don't know what it's like._

"Hmmm...well I'd like to hear from Kanaya herself that she's here." He turned to stare at her. _Why did she have to look at me?_ "Kanaya, please say 'here' or I'll have to mark you absent." Backed into a corner and with no other options, Kanaya begrudgingly muttered, "Here," to her desk.

"I can't hear you."

She looked up at him and snarled. "Here, you stupid teacher. Here!" The teacher's eyes widened, his face paling as the shame of her days was made known once more to everyone in the class. The clipboard slipped out of his hands.

"I...I..." he stammered. Finally, he blurted out the question that she knew was on his mind. "Kanaya, is something wrong with your teeth?" Kanaya did not deign to answer him, instead collapsing over onto her desk in a heap, tears falling onto the desk.

"She has naturally elongated canines...a rather extreme case, I'm afraid." The girl in the front was sucking up to the sub, acting as if she actually cared about Kanaya. The teacher was nodding, his eyes flicking back to stare at Kanaya every few seconds. "It really is such a shame. And everyone always makes fun of her for it, even the teachers. And she's never even allowed to leave class once she's like this. To go to the office or the bathroom or the counselor...they just make her sit in the back and cry and glare at everyone." She leaned closer to the teacher. "It's kind of scary, feeling her eyes boring into your back."

The teacher stood up at the front, bending over to retrieve his clipboard and clearing his throat. "Ms. Maryam, I've decided that if you would like, you could go someplace else for the class period. To calm down. I'll mark that you were here." Kanaya stood up like a demon from hell, anger and silent condemnation emanating from her as she gathered up her books and stalked out of the room, tears still streaking her face. With nowhere else in the school to go to, she wandered through the halls to the office, wiping futilely at her face. Perhaps her counselor could finally prove useful for something after all. And it was better than the multitude of staring faces that she would find anywhere else.


	7. Terezi

Click. Adjust. "'Scuse me, blind lady comin' through!" Click. Adjust. The breath was unexpectedly knocked out of her as she ran into someone. "Watch it!" she growled exasperatedly. She didn't wait to hear the response as she continued on her way.

Click. Whack. Someone in front of her wheezed in pain as her cane came into contact with their shin. "Outta my way!" she yelled into the hallway. She wasn't able to see that no one paid any attention to her, but she could feel it nonetheless.

She heard the wall open up on her right as the silence and occasional that had greeted her from the wall transformed into a louder, more present amalgamation of chatter. She made an abrupt right turn, catching a few students off-guard. She cackled as they awkwardly detoured around her, some of them not light enough on their feet. "Sorry..." they muttered resentfully.

"No you aren't," she called back stridently. Still laughing under her breath, she continued down the hall in her zig-zagging, unpredictable saunter, always clicking ahead.

As she reached the end of the hall, her teacher called out to her. "Terezi!"

"I know where I'm going!" Terezi spat crossly at her.

"Don't take that tone with me, Pyrope. I was only trying to help." _I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help._ "Now get to class."

"That's where I was going before you distracted me." The teacher's look of disapproval and gesture to enter the classroom were lost on Terezi, but she never knew of course.

Once in the classroom, she rudely announced her presence once more before clacking her way to the back of the room and taking her customary seat in the far back left corner. It really didn't matter where she sat, since she couldn't see the board no matter what.

After another minute the teacher's voice, loud and demanding, pierced her ears. "Alright, class. Hand up yesterday's analysis of the War of the Roses." The sound of students muttering and papers rustling boomed around Terezi, but she only smiled, not moving.

Footsteps traced their path towards Terezi. She grinned up in the general direction of where she knew the teacher's face would be. "Terezi, do you have your analysis?"

She laughed for a moment. "No."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't see the questions. Or did you forget that?"

The teacher's breath slowed, becoming angry. Terezi grinned wider. "I know you can't see the questions–"

"Or the paper, for that matter."

"Don't interrupt." The anger shone through the teacher's carefully measured tone for a moment. She took a deep breath. "But that is no excuse for not completing the assignment. Do you understand?"

Terezi's smile fell. "No, actually. I don't. Do you know why? Because I don't understand why you want me to be so dependent on other people. I don't need anyone." She smiled again. "But no one seems to understand that. Did you hear me, old lady? I said _I don't need anyone_. And I definitely don't need you badgering me about my stupid homework. Because in the end, the only thing that matters is that I am blind. And history won't help a blind person. So if you will please get your ass out of my life, I will continue to pretend I'm listening."

The teacher's silence spoke more of her fury than anything else could. When she spoke, her tone was absolutely icy. "Please escort yourself to the office, Ms. Pyrope. I'm sure you can do that, as you say, by yourself."

"With pleasure," Terezi retorted. The rattling crinkle of a paper being held out in the air next to Terezi's ear filled her with a strange sense of accomplishment. Cackling once more, she snatched the small slip of paper, a referral no doubt, grabbed her backpack and cane, and was once more clacking and shouting her way through the classroom, out the door, and down the hall.

A small, timid voice spoke up in her head. The one she had been tormented by since grade school. _Don't you think it's time to let someone else in?_

She responded bitingly, tearing apart the one thing that might save her from a life of solitude and bitterness. _No. It's never time. Because I don't need anyone else. Can't I even get that through my own head? I. Don't. Need. Anyone. Everyone always seems to think I can't do anything by myself. Well, surprise! I'm not stupid! I'm just..._

"Blind..." she whispered. Clack. Adjust. Her shell hardened, and her moment of weakness dissolved. "Hey office people!" she yelled in the general direction of the door to the office. "Open up so I can know where the door is!" There was a moment's hesitation, then the door creaked open. Had she been able to see, Terezi would have noticed that the door was being opened not by the secretary, but by a tall, willowy, mysteriously dark girl in a tattered grey skirt. But of course, such distinctions were lost on her.

A few moments passed and her trusty cane found the entrance. "Thanks so much," she said drily. Before anyone could respond, she strode in, clacked against a chair, and sat without a second thought. A small girl in olive cringed away from the imposing senior, still wiping at her face with a kleenex.

The girl in the tattered skirt smiled, pleased that everything was working out so well.


	8. Vriska

Entering the classroom is enough to know that you will easily be able to make the silly substitute teacher and students bow and scrape before you with minimal effort.

Your name is Vriska Serket, but of course everyone knows that. Everyone knows that you are the most important, dangerously inviting person in this entire school. And you know that, too. The substitute teacher looks up cursorily as you grace his presence, but he clearly doesn't understand your full magnitude because his gaze slips back down to analyze the computer screen. He begins to frantically type.

_Nervous. Not good with technology. Doesn't want to leave a bad impression._

You glide through the classroom on your customary zephyr of adoration from the worthless idiots that stare stupidly at you as you pass, hoping you'll notice them. They don't know it, but you do notice them. Each and every single one of them. You notice every twitch and every glance and every bitten nail or averted eye. And you file it away for later use. Because information is a good thing.

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Vriska Serket." You smile, your face showcasing the good-natured smile and a slight glow of enthusiasm that you have carefully sculpted and tweaked since middle school.

"Hello, Ms. Serket." The teacher does not immediately look at you, distracted one moment too long by the computer, which he still cannot get to function. His voice is slightly shaky, too subtle for someone who wasn't looking for it.

"Can I help you with the computer, Mr..." You trail off, waiting for him to finish your sentence, staring intently at the fingers of his left hand as they tap the desk.

_Left handed._

"Darcy. No thank you, Ms. Serket, I think I can manage. Take your seat, please."

_Scared of losing control. Scared of showing weakness. Doesn't want to show a preference between students this early in the game._

"Yes, Mr. Darcy." You turn, waiting for him to return to his computer, then slide deft fingers along the desk, snagging up and quickly concealing the wallet that he had lain next to his less agile right hand, guarded by his less perceptive right eye. He doesn't notice. You meander back to your seat, ears perked for the slightest sound from behind. A small cough, then the sound of the computer powering down.

_Easily frustrated. Either quick to give up or realizing that there's more than one way to skin a cat._

You casually slip the wallet into your book bag, continuing to listen for any other signs of his personality and weaknesses you can pick up on. Your survey of the teacher is stopped short by a movement in the corner of your eye. You turn. And smile.

_Perfect. The vampire is here._

Kanaya Maryam stands in the doorway, staring with pure terror in her eyes at the substitute teacher.

_She's having a particularly bad day. Someone has already made fun of her or she is feeling particularly self-conscious._

Kanaya drifts slowly to her seat, trying not to be noticed. The final bell rings as she sinks into her seat, shrinking down as far as possible into her seat. You hear the teacher stand up behind you. His footsteps are heavy and even. Determined.

_He's annoyed at his disability with the computer, but is trying to put on the facade that he knows what he's doing._

"Alright students, I'm Mr. Darcy, and since your regular teacher, Mrs. Mahonek, can't be here today, I'll be here teaching your lesson. But first things first, I have to take role. I can't seem to get the computer to work properly, so I'm just going to do it old-fashioned."

_Squinting at the clipboard. Slightly bad eyesight, but he's not wearing glasses. Either he forgot them, they are unavailable to him, or he does not like to wear them. Possible insecurity. Informality and honesty in speech either for intimidation or for trust-building._

He read the names of the list rather rapidly, pausing only on slightly more obscure names and always squinting to be sure he was seeing them correctly.

_Slight indentation of eyebrow while squinting a sign of annoyance. Likely he is uncomfortable._

_Discomfort is easy to work with._

There is a sudden break in the routine call and response of taking roll. The teacher looks up from the clipboard, repeating the name. "Kanaya Maryam?"

_Perfect._ Lightening quick, all of the dots connect.

"She's here, she just doesn't want to answer." You turn, sending your best intentions to the vampire seated in the back. She glares at you.

_Tension established._

"Well, why ever not?"

_Bait taken._

"She just doesn't like to talk much. It's a shame really." Your face changing instantly to a look of utter sincerity, your eyes bore into the teacher's. He nods, as if there was some message you sent him that he understands.

"Hmmm...well I'd like to hear from Kanaya herself that she's here."

_Insistence in his dominance. Analysis complete: suffers from mild insecurity and nerves._

"Kanaya, please say 'here' or I'll have to mark you absent." The girl's lips moved as she stared determinedly at her desk, her face ashen.

"I can't hear you."

_Confrontation imminent._

"Here, you stupid teacher. Here!" Vriska closed her eyes in sheer ecstasy. The sound of the clipboard crashing to the ground was music to her ears.

"I...I..." he stammered incoherently.

_Nerves completely frayed. Thin facade decimated._

"Kanaya, is something wrong with your teeth?" No answer whatsoever except a few muffled sobs.

_Amplification of already incapacitating feelings of self-loathing._

You speak up, the words flowing naturally from your lips. "She has naturally elongated canines...a rather extreme case, I'm afraid." The teacher looks at you, barely visible fear in his eyes as he nods, relieved that there is, indeed, an explanation. "It really is such a shame. And everyone always makes fun of her for it, even the teachers." You gauge Kanaya's mood.

_Doesn't want any more attention drawn to her. Content to sit in misery in the back of the classroom. Does not want to worsen the situation by involving any more adults._ You smile again, devilish glee mounting deep inside where no one can see. "And she's never even allowed to leave class once she's like this. To go to the office or the bathroom or the counselor...they just make her sit in the back and cry and glare at everyone." The idiot teacher hangs on your every word, eyes casting furtively back at Kanaya every other moment. You lean closer, seeing in his posture that your influence over him is now complete. "It's kind of scary, feeling her eyes boring into your back."

The teacher nods, bending over to retrieve his clipboard.

_Attempt at a symbolic reassertion of order, likely subconscious._

"Ms. Maryam, I've decided that if you would like, you could go someplace else for the class period. To calm down. I'll mark that you were here."

_Successful forced involving of more school officials._

Kanaya stands up, glaring daggers at all who dare to make eye contact with her. You return her look with one equally smug. The teacher is too distracted watching her dramatic exit to notice your change of character.

Once she has left, the teacher swallows, shakes his head slightly, and continues as if nothing had happened, stumbling over his words only at the beginning as he forges ahead. Your eyes follow his every movement as you allow your mind to wander away from his brainless ramblings. He clearly has no idea what he is talking about, and even if he did, you already understand the mathematical concepts allotted for today. Desperate for a thrill, you pull out his wallet, making no movement at all to appear as if you are guilty of anything. He does not even notice except to notice that you are examining a perfectly generic black wallet. Smiling, you count out your loot on the table. Thirty two dollars. You smile, dropping the cash into your bag. You don't touch the credit cards.

The class ends and you easily return the wallet to his desk in the process of apologizing for Kanaya's incredible rudeness. He smiles at you, touched by your apparent concern and sincerity. You smile one last time at him, but your mind is already awaiting your next meeting with the vampire as your feet carry you onward to your next class.


	9. Equius

"Mr. Zahhak, can I have a word please?" His face twisted in a momentary grimace before his shoulders relaxed a bit in defeat. He could not ignore an order from those higher than him. The list reordered itself nearly instantaneously, each directive lowering itself by one increment as this new distraction became too persistent to avoid.

"Mr. Zahhak, I've noticed..."

1) Listen to teacher blather on.

"Some of the other students have complained, and..."

2) Enter the hallway, faithful always to the designated route.

"...like to ask you to refrain from..."

3) Arrive at classroom, one to two minutes late.

"...will have to refer you to the principal should I receive any more complaints."

4) Apologize profusely for the unacceptable tardiness.

The tall, slightly perspiring boy looked down at the teacher. "My most sincerest apologies. I shall attempt, in the future, to restrain my frustration. Now if you will be obliged to excuse me, I must attend to my schedule." The words were forced through clenched teeth, but the anger was not directed towards the teacher. It was only natural that a teacher, being given higher authority, would be required to point out to a student, being given lesser authority, the alleged grievances he has committed. No, the anger was towards those inferior to him, intimidated by him, misunderstanding of him, that dared to bring up such ill-conceived and clearly fictitious crimes he had committed against them.

His feet beat a steady rhythm against the tile as he plowed unrelentingly along his regular route. His shoulders hunched up slightly, adding to the fear that always affected those near him. They could tell something was different about him. Something deep inside of him was ticking away, waiting to explode. Lowerclassmen trembled and ducked meekly out of his way as he continued on.

Abruptly his ritual was halted. Anger seethed through him in a pulsing rage as his gaze sliced downward to see what had blocked his path. The wide, green eyes of a very small, very frightened freshman met his for a moment before tears forced them to close and she looked away. "Get outta my way, you stupid freshman," he said menacingly, his voice low and even. When she still did not move, he shoved her roughly out of his way. A startled cry emitted from her as she stumbled to the side. The small, pitiful sound was quickly cut off by her tears. Without a second glance, he continued down the hall and out the door into the cold air, trekking across the grass to the shops.

The sounds of metal clanging and gruff shouting was music to his ears. "Equius! You're almost late, ya know that?" The teacher smiled and marked something on a clipboard before returning to the complicated tinkering, his upper body disappearing under the hood of the car.

"My apologies, sir. I will endeavor to remain timely in the future." His apology was swallowed by the screeching of power tools, but he nevertheless felt a certain amount of satisfaction.

1) Listen to teacher blather on: Accomplished, perfectly successful.

2) Enter the hallway, faithful always to the designated route: Minor complications. Moderate success.

3) Arrive at classroom, one to two minutes late: Failed. Moderate timeliness achieved.

4) Apologize profusely for the unacceptable tardiness: Accomplished, perfectly successful.

The wrench felt comfortable in his hand, and as he set to work on his latest project a new list formed in his head.

1) Complete daily assignment.

2) Complete personal goal.

3) Complete additional assignment.

The wrench slipped out of his hand. He habitually reseated his dark sunglasses on his nose as his eyes roved over his beloved project before he could finish constructing his list. _Something is wrong here._ Then he hit upon it.

There was a piece missing. The last piece that he had put in the day before. Someone had removed it. Before he could stop himself the rage that had been bubbling all day boiled over, and he turned on his fellow classmates.

"Who touched it?!" His voice was low despite its volume, but it somehow managed to cut through the sounds of building. The other nine students in his Advanced Auto Shop class turned to look at him, their reactions mixed between fear and shock. The teacher appeared, the hood of his car slamming shut.

"Equius, calm down now."

Equius paid him no mind. "Who touched my project? What loathsome, brainless animal dared to tamper with my project?" His booming voice coupled with his incredible height caused everyone to cringe a bit, shrinking into themselves physically.

The teacher put a hand on his shoulder. "Equius, stop!" Equius turned to him stiffly, barely resisting the urge to lash out at him. But he had been given an order, and he must obey.

"Yes, sir."

"Equius, I find it difficult to believe that someone would tamper with your project."

"You may believe that, sir, but it is a poorly contracted notion. My memory is perfect, and there is a piece missing."

"If I return to my project, will you continue to intimidate your classmates into confessing?"

"With regret, I must answer in the affirmative, sir." The rage within him seethed, desiring an outlet but having none. He knew without a doubt that someone had tampered with his project, and he knew that he must make that person pay.

"Then with regret I must send you to the office. For the fifth time this month..." The teacher seemed to have a pre-completed office slip ready, and he handed it to Equius without the slightest hesitation. "Please see yourself to the office. You know the way."

Equius clenched his fists. "Yes, sir."

The door shut behind him with a menacing thud. His list dissolved in his mind uncompleted, leaving him with a sense of utter defeat as he entered the school building once more. The halls blurred as he thought of his uncontrolled rage, and he slammed his hand against a locker in frustration. The door just down the hall opened and a pair of strikingly familiar green eyes peered out at him from the office for a moment before widening and ducking back inside. The door drifted open farther, hitting gently against the wall as it rebounded. With no other choice but to obey the order he had been given, he stalked into the surprisingly crowded room.

And the grey eyes of the girl with the grey skirt in the grey corner followed him, unnoticed.


	10. Gamzee

_You are incredibly happy._

_Your lazy smile rouses some strange looks from the students around you, as does your strange face makeup, but you don't care. You are happy and life is great and perfect and wonderful and you don't have to think about IT._

_The rainbow lights that gather at the corners of your eyes are practically intoxicating. But as quickly as you can turn your head to try and catch one full on, it is always faster, always slips away. But that doesn't faze you. Because nothing could possibly break this mood. Nothing._

_The girl in front of you has her hair twisted into a tight, beautiful braid. How does she even do that? you wonder slowly. The few hairs that have escaped the complex knots wave at you jovially. Your smile widens and you wave back before tentatively reaching out and cradling her braid in your hand. It's so beautiful, and when you squint the rainbow lights that were so evasive before slide up and down the braid. You can almost hear a faint laughter from them as they blink in and out of sight. You stroke the beautiful brunette hair and close your eyes, listening to the rainbows as they flutter by for what seems like an eternity._

_You hear a shriek from somewhere far, far away and you wonder dully what they could possibly find wrong with this beautiful day. This rainbow, miracle day. The shriek is followed by a slight pain, but the pain is far away too. Your body is far away and your mind is flying and–_

_–the pain intensifies suddenly, present and horrible, a stinging on your cheek. Your eyes fly open, anger flashing up violently and wiping away your smile, dissolving the happiness that had obscured IT. But now IT reasserts itself, and you feel yourself spiraling down and down, irreversibly._

_The braid is no longer in your hands, and the girl in front of you is facing you, protectively stroking it and screaming at you. Screaming, screaming, and none of the words matter because there is a roaring in your ears that drowns them out. A smile stretches your lips, but this one is not happy. It is not lazy or jovial. IT is menacing. IT speaks of unfathomable anger. And the light in your eyes speaks not of the rainbow lights that only you can see. IT speaks of a wild, terrifying desire to hurt_

**_kill_**

_and maim_

**_kill_**

_and injure until the screams of pain and fear_

**_of death_**

_rise to a dangerous frenzy and you laugh maniacally while hacking away and their screams are music to your ears._

_She is shrieking again, but there aren't any words this time. Her eyes are filled with terror_

**_beautiful terror_**

_as she slowly seems to split into three of herself, each tinted a different color, three lovely, crying images of the same girl. Your hand curls slowly_

**_feed on it_**

_so slowly_

**_give in_**

_into a fist and_

**_kill her_**

_you strike out at her. The three images duck, and you stumble forward, a pain from miles away registers hours later as originating from your bruised knees as you fall._

**_don't let_**

_You hear the sound of quick, pattery footsteps_

**_her get_**

_but you are too distracted to particularly notice it_

**_away_**

_as a bug crawls between your hands and the anger and IT slip away as quickly as they came, your eyes following the six legs' frantic movements with utter fascination._

_You hear the sound of a footsteps coming to your right. You manage to tear your eyes away from the bug long enough to realize you are on the ceiling. You straighten up, raising your hands above your head and waving them back and forth slightly, letting them dangle. The menace in your smile is completely gone, replaced by the carefree happiness that had adorned your face previously._

_A very small teacher appears from around the corner, out of breath, then proceeds toward you. They don't seem to get any closer, although their labored breathing does get louder. And two words. "Mr. Makara."_

_Mister Makara._

_Mikter Masara_

_Kister Mamara_

_Mamakastamarazka._

_Smile._

_You wave at them from your upside-down world, laughing at their funny red face._

_They grab your wrist, and suddenly you are no longer upside-down, only right-side-up and confined by the small, fat, red-faced teacher. They coax you to your feet as an immense and heavy veil of sadness creeps over your soul like a pestilence, a disease. Dragging you down and down. The teacher guides you forward, but you balk unpredictably as the floor in front of you crumbles away, leaving a gaping, whispering abyss. You whimper, but your smile remains, a strange disconnect of feelings consuming you as the happiness sneaks back in to live simultaneously with the despair._

_The teacher grows impatient, dragging you down the hallway and impossibly over the black hole. A strange green liquid seems to boil and froth at the base of the chasm, and an overwhelming desire to leap into the pit and drown yourself in the substance causes your step to falter once more. The teacher does not stop, only gripping your wrist tighter. Irritation slips in between the cracks the barely separate the already clamoring happiness and despair, filling you up with too many feelings._

_Time seems to skip and you stand in front of a door. The teacher is strangely slanted, seeming to melt and ooze. Your gaze focuses in on a point just to the left of his ear. A faint click is followed by a creaking and your hand is passed off. Your feet shuffle onward in a daze, your eyes following the elusive rainbow lights once more. Out of the corner of your eye you can vaguely see a mass of black and grey, tall and willowy. Black sparkling lights seem to dance around the thing, but you don't pay them any mind._

_Your hand is gently pressed against a wall, and you sink down unquestioningly. The colors of the room smear together, olive top-smear and grey and red bottom-smear and two dark squares. And as a door opens in the corner, a strange off-white joins the puddle of colors._

_You smile._


	11. Eridan

_**Acknowledgement: This chapter would not have been a thing that existed without my fabulous moirail. Thank you! **_

_**Author's Note: WARNING! There is one offensive, discriminatory word used in this piece. If you are apt to be offended I would advise you not to read it: I don't want anyone to be angry with me.**_

* * *

Eridan Ampora was dressed in the baggiest, dullest clothes he could find in his closet. His hair hung limp and unbrushed around his ears. His eyes stared unrelentingly at the floor, and his hands in his pockets caused his shoulders to raise in the tense, apprehensive way of one who has no fight left. But even with all of these precautions, he couldn't erase the knowledge that he himself had given the others to use against him. He couldn't take back his words, so confidently spoken and now so wretchedly hated.

His feet dragged him onward, and he could feel the eyes and hear the one and only word anybody ever associated with him anymore. Not fast. Not smart. Not artistic. None of the old adjectives. Just the new one, the one with all the weights and judgements and stereotypes.

_Gay_

A tall girl with long, wild black hair slammed into him unexpectedly. He rammed into the lockers next to him, turning to look at her. Despite the fear the pulsed steadily through him, he knew from experience that only defiance would show in his eyes. The defiance that had caused him so much pain.

The girl's face was composed, but there was something sinister in her way of holding herself. As if she held some forbidden knowledge. There was some deep, inner working whirring away inside of her head that caused the fear in Eridan's chest to throb especially pathetically.

"Don't you know any better than to get in the way of a senior?" Her voice slithered through his head, leaving him slightly dizzy and very terrified. For the first time, he felt the defiance that always accompanied a confrontation melt away and vanish. He cringed slightly, curling up into himself.

"Oh. I see." The thing he had seen in her posture transferred into her smile. "You're gay. So you think that you need to assert yourself." She laughed, every second stabbing small knives into Eridan's heart. He turned away, eyes customarily scanning the floor, and she leaned in closer to whisper in his ear.

"Try all you want, nothing will ever change. You're nothing better than that, just a worthless little faggot. But you already knew that, didn't you? That's why you try so hard. People with no hope like to drown in their own futility." She stepped back, a faint smirk slipping across her face as her words sank in, stinging like the pain of a scorpion's tail.

Before Eridan could react in any other way except to release a single tear from the carefully constructed restraining wall in his mind, the girl was gone with a flip of hair and a final, piercingly malevolent laugh. As the tear continued its path down his cheek, he realized what it was in a moment of absolute terror and turned to face the lockers before anyone could see. Clenching his eyes shut, he brusquely wiped the tear, the sign of weakness, away and continued down the hall.

_Try all you want, nothing will ever change. People with no hope like to drown in their own futility._

Sometimes, when there was nothing else for Eridan to do but succumb to the taunts, he closed his eyes and imagined that the world was a more understanding place. His feet carried him to his seat in the dull, grey English classroom, but his mind journeyed to a place where he was accepted without question. As he lifted up and out of himself, he detoured around two years worth of invisible malevolence and abuse that hung ominously over his head.

In his dream world, everything was as it should be. No one called him anything except Eridan. No one looked at him strangely. He didn't have to distance himself from every

_Gay_

stereotype just to be able to cope. He could dress as he pleased and speak his mind. And maybe even fall in love.

_Just a worthless little faggot._

But with that inkling of a thought, his mind snapped back to reality. Not here. That will never happen here. Not now, in this place, with these people. In an instant his perfect dream world shattered and he felt himself

_Gay_

fall back into his confining body in the confining world of reality with the confining, too-real people in it.

His teacher was still trying to preach the word of Shakespeare, but only a few of the students were paying attention. Eridan would have loved to admit that, really, Shakespeare wasn't bad. Could even be fun. But he didn't want to make things any worse for himself. So he sat, head on his desk, staring at the clock. Just like any other perfectly normal student on any other perfectly normal day.

_Gay_

After the teacher had finished encouraging the students to 'give in to the fun of Shakespeare', which was rewarded with some derisive laughter, she assigned parts for the day's reading. It took Eridan all the time until he was assigned Brutus to remember that they were reading Julius Caesar. As the reading began, Eridan's mind drifted once more, awaiting his teacher's strident reminder to read.

He had always understood Brutus. Most people hated Brutus for the choice he made, but Eridan didn't. Now more than ever, he knew that sometimes

_Gay_

making decisions is hard, and the consequences are even harder, and life can sometimes become a little worse after them. But they are done with the best intentions and hopes for the future, and people just can't blame someone for that, can they?

_Gay_

_People with no hope like to drown in their own futility._

Except when they can. And they do. And Brutus is sentenced to a shameful death, and Eridan was sentenced to the abuse and the hatred and the stares. The malevolent eyes that always bored into him from all sides. And there was nothing for Brutus to do except kill himself before anyone else could.

"Eridan!" His eyes drifted slowly from the face of the clock to the face of the teacher. There was little difference. "Please read your line now."

"Then follow me, and give me audience, friends." His mouth continued to move, and his voice continued to speak, but there was no emotion behind it. His eyes drifted back to the clock, the last words rolling off his tongue. As if the universe had, for once, waited for him, the bell punctuated his lackluster presentation. The other students moved as if in slow motion to pack up their belongings. Eridan, on the other hand, shoved his notebook and Shakespeare into his bag lightening fast and was out the door and running before anyone else could stop him.

The hallway traffic was moving slowly, and it was all Eridan could do not to scream. As much as he hated what awaited him at his house, he feared what could happen in the hallways just a bit more. But upon pushing ahead, he found that the sluggish pace of the hallway was not caused by dragging feet, but no feet at all.

Eridan's heart sank a bit as he beheld the poor, self-conscious boy in the wheelchair. The boy's mouth moved, constant apologies streaming unheeded out of it as he pushed forward slowly. Very carefully, his mind maneuvered through the pity that the trapped boy caused as his feet maneuvered around the bulky chair and on and out.

As he forced himself up the short staircase that led onto his bus, resigned as always to the routine torment that he knew awaited him once the bus started, the only thing he could think was, _please let him be sober._


	12. Feferi

With her perfectly brushed and curled hair floating lazily about her shoulders and her characteristically pink makeup spotlessly applied, Feferi Peixes glided down the hall with today's entourage of underlings and flatterers. Six inch heels gave her the extra height she needed to remind the world exactly who was in charge of it, and her carefully practiced smile and hair flip added the final touches to her already imposing figure. The other freshmen, who had known her in middle school, steered clear of her in the hallways because they knew she was their god. And even some of the upperclassmen, who had likely never seen her before, parted before her like a mass of adoring peasants as she made her way through the halls.

Her normal acknowledgement of the constant rain of praise was broken as someone who was clearly very distraught raced in front of her and disappeared into the bathroom. Feferi stepped back a bit, but of course her coordination was too good for her to even momentarily lose her balance. Her escort of acolytes came to a much clumsier halt, ramming into each other and shooting cross words at each other in hushed voices.

_Perfect. Another easy convert._

Feferi silenced the squabbling girls with a flick of her hand. She turned her head just enough for her followers to know she was about to speak without gracing them with the glory of her face.

"Come on, girls. I have to fix my hair before the next class." Without waiting for her words to sink in, Feferi cockily made her way through the mass of people in between her and the bathroom door.

As the door swung shut behind her, she scanned for the girl.

_There you are._

The girl was wearing an abominable olive green jacket, and her hair was an absolute mess. Her face was streaked with tears, and as Feferi approached she curled up a bit, pressing herself further into the wall.

_You stupid idiot. Don't you realize you've been graced with the presence of your master?_

"Hey, what's wrong?" Feferi's voice was light, kind, inquisitive. The girl was unresponsive for a moment.

_Look at me, you little shit._

Her wide green eyes made contact with Feferi's for the briefest of moments before she turned away, sobbing even harder. Her cheeks flared red. "I...I...I'm sorry..." she managed to stutter.

_You should be. You refused to look at me for an entire five seconds._

"What are you sorry for? You haven't done anything. What's your name?" Feferi tried to keep her tone light, but some of her anger rose into her tone. The girl seemed not to notice, luckily.

_She'll make a perfect trophy dog._

"N-Nepeta. Please, I don't want to be a bother."

_Well then stop being such a sniveling, useless coward and let me recruit you._

"You're not a bother." Feferi had never had to keep her emotions this checked. Her patience was wearing very thin. "Now, what happened?" And the trap was set. If the girl took this bait and Feferi comforted her, the girl wouldn't be able to stop herself from becoming one of Feferi's toys.

"I am a bother...or at least, I think I am...please stop pretending I'm not...if you are...I don't mean to assume...just...I don't want to make you late to class..." The girl's tears doubled.

_Stop crying or I will hurt you. Don't you think I won't, you little bitch._

Feferi's smile was fading, and she made a point to stretch its life a little longer. "Jeez, stop being so stressed out. My next teacher won't mind." That much was true. Feferi had the teachers eating out of the palm of her hand. But she didn't know how much longer she'd be able to stand this blubbering moron.

_Just start the damn confession so I can become your sheltering goddess._

The girl's mouth opened, but it was not a confession that streamed forth. "I am too stressed out...you're right...I'm sorry...please, don't talk to me. I wouldn't want to waste your time."

_No, you damn fucking don't. So get this over with and tell me what the hell is wrong with you._

"I mean...I don't mean to tell you what to do."

_At least you've got that much straight. I'm the one that gives the orders. You just listen and obey and nothing bad happens to you._

"I'm sorry...I just don't want to make things worse..." the girl buried her head in her hands and sniffed.

_Damn you to fucking hell, you fucking asshole._

One of Feferi's loyal disciples timidly spoke up. "Hey, let's get outta here. She's weird, and I'm gonna be late." Feferi turned, a blaze of fury in her eyes. The girl gasped quietly as she realized she had referred to herself as separate from Feferi, 'I' instead of 'we'. "Your hair looks fine," she quickly finished. Satisfied with the reparation, Feferi allowed her minion to grab her arm, stood, and dove once more into the hall, her entourage gathering in its usual bunch behind her.

_Damn her, damn her to hell, that little idiot. Couldn't she see that she had been touched a god? Did she not realize that it was I, Feferi Peixes, that had graced her presence?_

As Feferi continued down the hall, her face remained completely, perfectly coy and unreachable, as always. But inside, her rage seethed and bubbled.

The voice of a teacher caught her off-guard. "Ms. Peixes. Late again, are we?" Her Money Management teacher stared down at her. She returned his glare, plaster smile still perfect, but the rage inside showing ever-so-slightly in her eyes. The teacher frowned. "Get inside quick, and I won't count you absent."

"How dare you order me to do something," Feferi muttered quietly as she passed through the door.

"What was that, Peixes?" The teacher's voice was icy, and something very close to fear ripped a hole in Feferi's stomach. But it wasn't fear. She was incapable of feeling fear.

"I said, how dare you order me. Don't you know who I am?" The 'fear' vanished in an instant as she asserted her position as reigning monarch of the ninth grade.

The teacher looked taken aback for a moment before pulling something out of his pocket. "Yes, I do. A very cocky freshman who's going to the office." He handed her a hall pass.

Feferi's smile vanished. Her acolytes' eyes widened in terror as they stepped back. When Feferi spoke, her voice was cold. "You little bastard. How dare you talk to me like that? I am Feferi Peixes, and you will treat me accordingly!" Her voice rose in volume until she was nearly shrieking. "Do you hear me, old man?! I will not take this blasphemy from you or anybody else! You will treat me with the respect I deserve!"

A hard hand gripped her shoulder. "Class, start tonight's assignment. I have to escort Ms. Peixes to the office. If I find anything funny when I come back, you will all receive double homework." Before Feferi's pride could possibly begin to fathom what was happening, she was being led to the door of the office and gently pushed inside.

The door shut behind her, and she felt a scream rising in her throat. Before it could be released, her eyes locked with those of the girl with the olive jacket. She was still crying.

_I can't let myself fall to the level of such a common, worthless girl._

Feferi steeled her nerves. She took a deep breath, ignored everyone in the room who looked at her, and quietly sat, waiting for a moment to strike.

And at the other end of the room, Aradia Megido smiled._ Let the first stage begin._


	13. First Meeting: Nepeta, Kanaya, Terezi

Terezi didn't know how much longer she could stand it. The idiot sitting next to her had been crying for at least twenty minutes straight, and she had been crying when Terezi came in as well. It was beginning to get on Terezi's nerves, until at last she couldn't sit silently anymore.

"Hey you." She elbowed the girl next to her.

"Y-yes?" Nepeta whimpered. She pulled another kleenex from the box that the strange girl in grey had given her and buried her face in it.

"What are you here for? Except crying." Terezi couldn't help but cackle at her own joke.

The question hit Nepeta hard. It was the same question she had asked herself so many times. The same question that had battered at her without an answer, leaving her bruised and cautious and isolated. Her breath caught in her throat as her mind whirled in vain, searching for the answer that seemed just beyond her fingertips and yet permanently unattainable.

"Hello? I asked you a question. You're supposed to answer." Before Terezi could even finish the sarcastic statement, Nepeta began crying again, but these tears were different. These tears were silent and pained, the kind that are habitual, holding the shards of the deep emotional rift that had been tearing Nepeta apart for so many years.

"I don't know why I'm here...ok? I don't know! And that's...that's fine, right? Isn't it? I-I...I'm sorry, please don't look at me!"

The door leading into one of the counselor's offices opened at precisely that moment. A girl stood in the doorframe, petrified as she heard the sentence she had said so many times echo in her ears, a new voice now forming the treacherous words.

Terezi gaped at the pure agony in the voice. Her features softened a bit, and she tried her question again. "No, stupid, I mean why are you in the office."

_No, that's not how that was supposed to come out. Why am I so...nasty all the time?_

Nepeta refused to respond. The girl in the doorway came to an instantaneous decision. Quickly glancing around to see that everyone in the office was preoccupied, she forced her mouth to open and spoke. "What do you think you're doing? Can't you see she–" Kanaya stopped herself as Terezi turned to face her and she saw the blank greyness in her eyes.

"No. I can't see anything. Thank you for reminding me."

"I-I'm sorry...I didn't know..." Nepeta's head raised slightly as she turned to look, her heart beating a little faster, at the older girl who had just echoed her.

"Your voice sounds funny. Like there's something in your mouth," Terezi commented callously. Kanaya's hand flew to her mouth in horror. Terezi laughed. "Nothing to say to that one? Well, I guess we're even."

"P-please don't fight. I don't mean to t-tell you what to...what to do." Nepeta's timid, tear-choked voice startled the both of them. Despite Kanaya's stare of shock and Terezi's eerie stare of complete blankness, Nepeta managed to continue. "But I really don't like it wh-when people fight. So please...can't you just be fur-riends?"

Kanaya's heart softened a bit as the girl spoke. She had felt a connection with her almost instantly, and the bond had strengthened when she heard Nepeta's timidity and fear of rejection. _And besides, she saw you talk, but she didn't stare. She really didn't stare. How many chances are you gonna get to meet someone like that?_

Something much subtler changed inside Terezi, something that she wasn't even fully aware of but that affected her next decision. Deep inside of her mind, a door opened. It was as simple as that. An opportunity, a light at the end of the tunnel, a port in a storm. And Terezi made one, very tentative step toward it.

"Okay, fine. I'll play nice, if that's what you all want. But that doesn't mean I'm your friend." _Can't you let your guard down just once?_

_No. I get hurt when I let my guard down. Don't you remember last time?_

It took a little internal struggle to convince Kanaya to open her mouth again, but she managed to say a few, quick words. "I will agree as well."

Nepeta gaped in wonder at the two older girls. _Did I really just...did I convince them to...I did that?_ Before Nepeta could gather her thoughts into coherent words, Terezi was questioning her again.

"You never answered my question. And what's your name, anyway?"

"Nepeta." For once, Nepeta was able to even out her shaky voice.

"Nepeta, huh? I'm Terezi."

"My name is Kanaya," Kanaya butted in.

"No one asked you!" Terezi shot at her. "And no one cares."

"I care," Nepeta whispered. Kanaya turned to look at her sympathetically. Terezi picked at her skin.

"So what are you here for then, Nepeta? I mean, you obviously aren't in trouble for anything."

"Well I...it was those two." Nepeta pointed fearfully across the room, first at a tall, slightly perspiring boy and then at a thin, overly done-up girl.

"Gee, thanks! That's so helpful, because I can totally see other people in the room. Thanks for being so considerate!" Nepeta bit her lip. Kanaya jumped to the rescue, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Knock it off, Terezi."

Terezi turned to sneer at her. "Oh, sorry for disobeying orders. I'll be a good little girl next time." Kanaya didn't respond, too busy reprimanding herself.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you talk? What if it's just that Nepeta hasn't noticed them? If she sees your...condition, you'll be done for._

"Since you're so eager to talk, why don't you tell us why you're here? Go on, speak up!" Nepeta had buried her face in her knees, didn't dare to interfere again.

Kanaya looked with pain and anger at Terezi. "Nothing you'd understand."

Terezi turned to look in Kanaya's general direction and somehow managed to line up exactly with Kanaya's eyes. "Try me." Another tentative step towards the door. Nepeta looked up out of curiosity, but was still careful not to make eye contact.

Kanaya took a deep breath, now trying to restrain her own tears. A million thoughts raced through her head at once.

_Can I trust them? Can I tell them? Will they make fun of me? Will they stare and then refuse to look at me? What if they hate me?_

_Will it be any worse than it is already?_

_Can it be any worse?_

She took a deep breath. _No, it can't._

As Kanaya began to speak, her mind tried to stop her by propelling her down into a horrible daydream. She felt as if she were precariously balanced on a tightrope, but the net that should have been below her was gone. There were masked, laughing crowds on both sides that waved torches threateningly, and any second they might set the rope on fire. And standing in between the crowds and the rope were Nepeta and Terezi, one on each side. It remained to be seen whether they would stop or help the crowds.

"It's these, okay? My...my teeth. They're pointed, and it's weird. Go ahead, laugh. It's funny, right? That's what everyone always says." She paused. "I bet you think so, too."

Kanaya held her breath. The crowds bobbed and danced anxiously, their empty eyes glowing behind their masks.

_This is it._ Kanaya had the wild urge to close her eyes. The moment seemed to last an eternity.

Terezi began to laugh. It wasn't the kind of laugh that starts out as a quiet giggle, the kind that is hidden behind a hand to the mouth. This was the kind of open laugh that Kanaya had feared, the kind that starts out loud and doesn't quiet. The kind that just goes on and on and on. The crowd on Terezi's side of the tightrope melted around her, lunging excitedly towards the end of the rope. Kanaya looked at the abyss that waited beneath her, and cringed.

Terezi began to speak, and Kanaya froze in the midst of her balancing act, listening, hoping. "I'm not laughing at your teeth. I can't even see them." Terezi paused, but the relief that washed over Kanaya was short-lived. "I'm laughing at you. You think that everything revolves around your teeth. Well, guess what? You can get them fixed. You can hide them. You can incorporate them into yourself and get on with your life. Maybe they're a little bit weird, I wouldn't know. Anyway, if you weren't so easy to pick on nobody would. But you know what can't be hidden? Blindness. No matter how many colored contacts I get, I will always be blind. I will always have to have a cane or a dog or a person to lead me around. And I can't ever get rid of that. Do you have any idea what that is like? No, you don't. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Please...stop..." The fire licked at the rope greedily, racing toward Kanaya in a great wave. _Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The great Kanaya Maryam, performing her signature trick: The Burning Vampire!_

Nepeta had been listening with a mixture of fascination and terror. These two older girls had so much confidence, and they didn't even think anything of it. _Where does it come from? How can Kanaya have courage to talk about her problems? How can Terezi always have something to say, even when she is so angry?_ But now these two great pillars of strength were crumbling, battling. They couldn't see it. No one could see it except Nepeta because no one was watching except Nepeta. Not for the first time, a very quiet voice spoke up.

_You have to help them. They can't do it by themselves. _And the louder voice responded.

_What could you possibly do that would help them?_

Nepeta steeled herself. This was the first time someone had talked to her and she had wanted to talk back._ I have to try._ And she spoke.

"If it means anything, I really admire you, Terezi." Every instinct screamed at Nepeta to stop, to be quiet, to melt into the background and never be seen from again. And she fought back.

Terezi had been formulating a new biting comment to throw at Kanaya, but as Nepeta spoke she stopped. "What?" Kanaya shot a thankful glance at Nepeta from behind her unshed tears.

Nepeta swallowed her fear and continued. Her voice was small, quiet, easily drowned. But for the second time that day, it was not shaky. "I mean, you're so confident. You aren't ever afraid to say what's on your mind. I know I haven't known you for very long, but it seems like every time you are faced with a challenge, you rise to it. And I..."

_Just go for it. You've already started, why stop now?_

"I just hide. When someone tries to talk to me, I panic. When I'm told to make a decision, I can't. That's why I'm here. Someone ran into me in the hallway, and instead of moving on, I ran away. I hid in a bathroom and cried until someone told a teacher where I was. And I hate it. But I don't know if there's anything I can do to fix it. And that's something I envy of you. Of both of you." Kanaya's eyes widened.

"Both of you know whether your problem can be taken away or not. Kanaya, you know that you could always get your teeth fixed. You can get them removed. And even if you don't, they aren't that noticeable. I didn't notice them until you pointed them out, and now that I do, I still don't think they're that weird. If other people do then you can just ignore them. And Terezi, you know for sure that you can't change your eyes. You know that you will be blind, and you can eventually accept that. But I don't know either way. I don't know if I can or can't get rid of my indecisiveness and my timidness. Because to get rid of it, I'll have to overcome it. And even then, what if no one wants to help me?" Nepeta couldn't continue. She looked at the floor, biting her lip. Inside, her demons laughed at her.

_You've done it now. Now they'll laugh at you or ignore you or walk away. And it'll be all your fault._

_All my fault...what was I thinking? I can't...do anything. I'm useless. No one wants to hear my problems. Now they'll hate me, and I'll be back where I started. Alone. I was so close to having a friend, and now look at me. I really messed it up._

Before Nepeta could completely disappear into herself again, Kanaya spoke up. She didn't think about it. She just did. "Well I know at least one person that will want to help you. I've never known someone who didn't think my teeth were weird." Nepeta raised her head, eyes filled with hope as she dared to smile a bit.

"And I guess I know another. I'm not about to get all sappy or anything, but some of the things you said really make sense." Terezi's harsh tones seemed slightly fractured, as if something underneath was trying to escape. Something desperate. Terezi then turned towards Kanaya. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't take back anything I said, get that clear in your head. But I am sorry about the way I said it." She paused. "You better have heard that well, because I don't plan on repeating it. Ever."

Kanaya smiled. Just as the fire had threatened to consume her and the laughing eyes of the crowds had threatened to bury her alive, Nepeta and Terezi had secured a safety net below her. With a sense of hopeful abandon, she jumped off of the rope before the flames could touch her, landing softly on the net. The crowds above dispersed as bits of flaming rope fell to the ground.

Terezi crossed her arms in defiance, but deep inside she was in complete turmoil. Her facade was breaking, but it was not crumbling as she had thought it would. It was cracking in little spiderwebs and then falling apart in great big chunks. That was not what was causing the turmoil, though. The turmoil was her own mind rebelling against itself. As the mask cracked and fell to pieces, she did not feel any fear or regret or desire to glue it back together. If she had to classify what she felt about it, it would be relief. But for so long, her whole life had revolved around her mask, her outward personality. Now that it was destroying itself, she didn't know what to use as her rock, her fortress anymore. And she didn't care.

As long as she could remember, Nepeta had felt as if she had a great load of stones on her back, a weight that was too heavy for her to do anything about except stagger on and try not to fall. But now, she wasn't stumbling. Now, someone was helping her to walk straight while another slowly took the stones away and placed them softly on the ground behind them. Before, she had felt as though, eventually, she would trip, and the stones would crush her beneath them. But as the weight was slowly relieved, all she could feel was a strange lightness, a freedom. And she did not miss the stones at all.


	14. First Meeting: Karkat and Aradia

Karkat was determined to yell at somebody. Every single person in the room if he had to. He could tell they all thought they had problems. The three girls crying into each other like idiots in a little friendship-triangle proved that. It made him want to scream. What could they possibly know about problems? Even the blind one had nothing compared to him. Sure, she couldn't see, but that was it. One problem. Karkat couldn't even begin to list off all of his problems.

He relished the feeling of the anger growing beyond his control. The taste of battle in his mouth. The ability to lash out at everyone around him to relieve some of the self-hatred that beat at him until there was nothing but a frightened, bruised boy without a friend. He felt himself kicking into his old routine.

_They fucking deserve to be yelled at. Look at them, with their perfect fucking problems lined up neatly on a silver fucking platter for their convenience. And then it's one little nudge and all the problems fall off into the fucking abyss._

At last the monument of happiness the three girls were forging for themselves grew to be too much. "Hey assholes. Could you please get your heads outta your fucking perfection clouds for a few seconds to remember that some people in the world have actual problems that require actually drowning in a puddle of self-loathing?"

"Are you talking to us?" Terezi's voice was layered between sheets of ice.

"Who else would I be talking to? Everyone else in the room has enough decency to shut the fuck up and allow everyone to wallow in their own stupidity while reflecting on the immense unfairness of the world. Now excuse me while I return to repeatedly jumping off my cliff of futility into the abyss of reality."

Nepeta ducked behind Terezi, trying desperately not to burst into tears again. Terezi turned to comforting her while Kanaya, her voice lost, could only glare at the boy.

"Nothing to say to that one? Well I'm glad I could be the one to remove the fucking clouds so you could see the goddamn light. Please, the praise is too much."

"Will you just shut the fuck up?" Terezi's inability to glare was made up for in full by her tone.

"Oh, sorry, did I ruin your day? Fuck, really, I'm sorry. I'll just stop. After all, it's not like you actually have real problems that are never going to be solved and there's nothing you can do about it except melodramatically announce the end of your existence and jump off a fucking cliff to relieve us all of your immense stupidity. Nothing like that." Adrenaline was racing through his veins as he finished. _Why do you like this so much?_ Karkat quickly answered the small voice._ Because I get to feel like I make a difference this way._

"Hey bro, you seem real uptight over there. Seems like you need to up and get your motherfucking chill on." Karkat froze. _Oh for fuck's sake, not this guy._ "You know how I get to be putting my chill on? Thinking about the motherfucking universe. Have you ever thought about how big it is? It's the biggest motherfucker I've ever had to up and get into my brain all at once."

"Gamzee, will you shut the fuck up?!" Karkat's rage had boiled over. "Not everyone is high on your fucking drugs, okay? Not everyone has the luxury of a problem that can be solved by fucking acid or whatever the hell it is you're on."

"Whatever, bro. Can't say I didn't motherfucking try." The tall boy shrugged absently, gaze already affixed to the ceiling fan above them. "Have you ever seen these things, bro? They just...spin. Like they don't have a care in the motherfucking world. Must be nice, being a fan. I should get my fan on." He slowly lay down on the floor beneath it, passing underneath Karkat's radar and out of sight.

Karkat turned back to the three girls. The two older ones were huddled protectively around the younger one, and one of the older ones was staring at him. She looked really familiar, and it took only a moment to place her. "Hey, you're the bloodsucker, aren't you? Kenya, or something like that." The girl stiffened, a hand instinctively rising to cover her mouth. "Why don't you take your friends away somewhere to go prey on somebody else and leave me the fuck alone to fester in my customized pile of shit until the final bell rings?"

Kanaya didn't dare respond. Instead, she quietly ushered Terezi and Nepeta to the corner of the room farthest from Karkat. Karkat smiled.

"I wonder what he thinks he accomplished in doing that?" The voice was soft and lilting in an almost eerie way. It was also about one inch from his ear. Panicked, Karkat jerked to his feet and turned. The girl that had been laughing to herself quietly in the corner was suddenly standing in front of him. Her wide, grey eyes seemed to look through him at something standing just behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder before glaring at her.

"What the fuck is your problem? Am I the only person on this godforsaken planet who has ever heard of leaving someone the fuck alone? Or let me guess, you are my personal torturer assigned to me by Satan himself and destined to follow me around for the rest of time until I'm driven so mad that I just fucking kill myself. That's what this is, isn't it?"

The girl laughed. "He thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?" She paused, her head cocking to the side slightly as if she were listening to something. "Well, obviously, yes. Don't worry. I won't."

Karkat could only stare at her, mouth hanging open. As he tried to formulate something to say, she smiled suddenly, and her eyes suddenly seemed to focus, staring directly into his eyes. Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He tried to rip himself from her grip, but she was much stronger than she looked. She forcefully guided him behind the desk of the secretary, who had been buried in a book for the past hour in an attempt to remove herself from the insane kids that had piled into the office. As the girl and Karkat approached her, she shut the book decisively.

"What do you want? You know you can't be behind the desk, right?"

"You're going to leave, now." Karkat shivered at the uncompromising simplicity of the statement.

The secretary looked confused. "What?"

"You're going to leave, now," the girl repeated cheerfully. The secretary gave them a suspicious look. Finally, she sighed.

"Whatever. Go back into the main part of the office, okay? I'm sure the bell will ring any minute." The girl's smile widened, and one of her fingers twitched on Karkat's wrist. He grimaced.

As the secretary reached for her book, her elbow slipped to the side a bit, nudging a conveniently precarious coffee cup off the edge of the desk. The coffee splashed up off of the ground, soaking the right side of the secretary's skirt. The woman breathed in sharply.

"Shit." Carefully taking stock of the room, she came to a split second decision. She turned to the smiling girl in grey. "I am going to be gone for five minutes. If anything is wrong when I get back, I'm blaming it on you. Is that clear?"

"You're going to leave, now."

"Ugh, whatever." The secretary gave the girl a last, suspicious look before leaving the room.

Before Karkat could reel in his slack jaw, the mystery girl was pulling him down into a sitting position. The desk was the perfect height such that his short stature was easily completely concealed. After the initial shock at the absolute gall of this mystery girl, Karkat ripped his arm out of her grip. Unlike before, it slipped away easily. Even though she hadn't actually touched his skin, thanks to his long-sleeved shirt, he felt an icy cold where her fingers had been. Her grey eyes levelled with his, peering deep into them as if she were studying something hidden within. Karkat had to suppress the almost overpowering urge to shiver under her gaze.

_What are you even doing? Tell her to fuck off, moron._

Karkat swallowed, allowing his anger to take control once more. "Look, I have no fucking idea who you are, but I'm pretty sure we've never met. Even if we have, that doesn't really matter since I don't fucking care. And in case you hadn't noticed, I was just fine fantasizing about all the wonderful ways to kill myself before you dragged me back here with your voodoo powers. So if you don't mind, leave me the fuck alone and go back to your witchcraft."

"They tell me you're sad."

Karkat was taken aback. "What?" he spat.

"They tell me that you don't show it anymore because you think it makes you seem weak. But deep down inside, you are very, very sad." Her eyes seemed to glaze over once more, although they never moved from staring at him. "So sad...it must be so cold, all alone."

Karkat tried to sustain his customary glare, but his insides were frozen. His thoughts raced ahead of his protective grasp.

_How could she possibly know?_

_Don't be an idiot. She doesn't know anything. You're not sad._ Any inkling of shock and acknowledgement was dashed into a million pieces as his confusion sank back into its usual place behind the iron bars of the anger that masked everything. "What the hell do you know? All of your problems are so small and insignificant! _Everyone's_ fucking problems are fucking _small and insignificant_! But do I get that luxury? Do I get to eat the fucking cream tarts of non-existent problems while I idly ponder the immense beauty of my smooth, perfect life? No, I don't. Instead I am the one saddled with _actual_ problems that _actually, permanently ruin my fucking life!_ And the rest of you slack-jawed, brainless clusterfucks sit there and laugh at me behind my back because my skin is _fucking wrong! Do you know what that's like?_ No, you don't! Because you were born with normal fucking skin and eyes! _You weren't born a mistake!_" By the end of his tirade, Karkat was screaming, and when the blood stopped pounding in his ears, he realized with a slight drop of his stomach that the entire room was silent.

Even though he likely wouldn't be able to see much, he didn't dare look over the edge of the desk. He knew what would be waiting for him. The blank faces and the staring eyes. He didn't want that. He didn't want any of this.

_But you were born with it, and you can't fucking change it now._

As gracefully as a falling leaf, the girl in front of him rose to her feet. She addressed the room calmly, he voice completely even. "Go back to talking among yourselves, please." As she finished, something that couldn't be seen but that everyone knew existed flared up around the girl. Something ominous and powerful, something that struck just a small flame of fear into the heart of everyone present. Then, cautiously, the conversations resumed. The girl smiled and sat once more. Her gaze returned to Karkat, and her eyes were no longer glazed over. In fact, they were perfectly, clearly lucid, more than he had seen them be in the five minutes he had known her.

"I know your life is hard. I know that no one else understands. But you must let others help you. You must let _these_ others help you. They all have problems, too, and although you may not realize it, their problems are just as serious as yours. Not because they are the same level of problem, but because the same amount of their life is spent obsessing over it." She lowered her voice, bringing her mouth close to his ear to whisper into it. "And do you know what they tell me? They tell me that you have to be the leader in this. You have to be the one to make everything happen because no one else will. They will find an excuse why they can't, won't, shouldn't, mustn't. I don't imagine that you understand why you of all people must lead them. I can't even say I understand. But they have never lied to me before. So believe me, you must be the one to help these people. Because no one else will."

For the first time Karkat could remember, his anger abandoned him. He was left weak, defenseless, and broken, with nothing to hold back his confusion. All he could manage to respond to the strange girl was a shattered whisper. "And what if I don't? They don't mean anything to me. Why should I care?"

"Because if you don't help them, then what you are now is what you will always be: a confused, self-loathing albino who wants the solace that only comes in death."

The complete honesty in the girl's voice reawakened Karkat's previous urge to shiver, and this time he had nothing left inside him to restrain himself. The girl continued, her eyes slowly returning to their half-glazed state.

"My name is Aradia. If you decide to help these people, find me." The glaze returned completely. She stood up in her peculiarly unearthly way. "You have to go now."

As if on cue, the last bell rang. The motley crew of students slowly rose from their various levels of self-pity and shuffled out the door, re-entering the hectic current of the hallway. Karkat looked away from Aradia for a moment to collect his thoughts, but when he turned to throw a final, biting remark, she was gone without a trace. Slowly, unsure of exactly what had just happened, he wandered cautiously into the hallway, one hand tracing the wall. As if part of an incurable routine, his shell of anger reasserted itself, drowning him in its easy, artificial relief.


	15. First Meeting: Equius, Gamzee, Feferi

Equius, for once, could not seem to compile a list of what to do.

His entire order of the day had been completely obliterated when he was sent to the office, but that was almost part of his routine. He was used to it. It was one of the few outside factors that he could easily mold a new list around in the likely case that it occurred. What was troubling him more profoundly was his earlier encounter, which had consisted of a quickly spoken sentence and a flash of anger.

_"Get outta my way, you stupid freshman."_

What had possessed him to say such a thing? The answer to that question was simple enough: he had allowed his anger to overstep its bounds, break its rules.

Why did this instance of his anger strike him as different from every other? This question was more complex, but easy enough to answer. His anger had always shown itself only if it perceived a true threat to his careful balance of order. In the shop, he had seen with his own eyes the tampering that had clearly and obviously taken place. His anger was righteous, if anger can be such. But something about this particular instance struck him as wrong.

The scene played itself back in his head. Really, he should have been more cautious in his own step. This second, analyzing view of the memory allows him to study the level of distress that the girl had exhibited even prior to his unfortunate lack of control. After he had deposited her cleanly out of his path, he hadn't paid much attention to her. But as he watched her in his mind, he saw her lip quiver, her feeble will break, and the tears fill her eyes.

Why did it bother him so? This was the most confusing question, the one that he could not ignore. He did not know the girl at all. From the size of her, he would imagine her to be a freshman or a sophomore, so clearly not someone he would have ever interacted with. She did not strike a particular resemblance to anyone he had ever met, or at least not anyone in his recollection. So why did he feel so much guilt?

He knew he should have been able to push it out of his mind. He had, after all, had far too much experience with pushing guilt out of his immediate focus. But every time he tried to do so with this memory, it came back to haunt him not more than five minutes later.

Part of the reason he was having so much difficulty, he imagined, was that she was sitting across the room from him. He was trying his best not to look at her, but every so often out of the corner of his eye he would see her glance up at him in terror before quickly looking down again.

Another part of the reason was that there was something about her that did seem familiar. Not a physicality, per say, but the set of mannerisms and postures that seemed to characterize her. Something about her timidness and frightened eyes simply registered with him in a way that he didn't quite want to admit.

"Hey, bro." An abrasively low and completely unfamiliar voice awakened Equius from his confusion. Equius turned to behold a boy slightly taller than him, which was quite a feat indeed, smiling broadly and somewhat vacantly at him.

"Have I made your acquaintance prior to this?" Equius tried to make his voice carry his utter disgust at being disturbed. Unfortunately, the message was lost on the stranger, who only smiled wider.

"I don't think we motherfuckin' have. My name is..." the boy trailed off before he could finish, staring fixedly at a point on the ceiling with a look of utter fascination.

Equius scowled, and did not deign to respond to such a ridiculous attempt at an introduction. Before much time had passed, though, the boy was pestering him once more.

"Have you ever up and noticed those rainbow lights up there, bro? They're like...motherfucking miracle sundaes with a side of miracles."

"Forgive me for my untimely interruption, but I happen to have pressing matters regarding my personal affairs to attend to. I would appreciate your immediate retreat from my general area."

"You don't got to be all up and tight, bro. You're like...all screwed up like a motherfucking top, and you're just gonna spin around in little..." again the boy's train of thought was lost as he stared at nothing.

Equius's hands clenched into fists as he tried to remind himself of his basic moral principles. The boy began to speak again, and as much as Equius tried to tune it out, there was something about his voice that commanded attention. "Maybe if you get to talking about your problems, they'll just sorta vanish into the motherfucking essence of the universe. Poof." His last sentence was punctuated by a hand gesture vaguely resembling what was known colloquially as 'spirit fingers'. Equius's scowl deepened.

"I do not believe I require any assistance regarding my numerous dilemmas." As much as Equius tried to make it clear he did not want to be trifled with, the oblivious boy made himself comfortable on the floor next to Equius's chair.

"Now I don't know if you've up and noticed, but I'm gonna let you in on a motherfucking miraculous secret." The boy leaned up to Equius, his eyes wide. He lowered his voice slightly, although it did little to mask his words. "I'm completely motherfucking stoned. So whatever you up and tell me, it'll just be slipping its way outta my brainpool like a motherfucking eel."

Equius could no longer stand the gall of the boy. "It is with the deepest regret that I must inform you that I am incapable of carrying on a conversation with someone as deplorable as you. I ask you in good faith that you remove yourself."

"Remove myself? That's not a very nice thing to do, bro. People shouldn't up and leave somebody to simmer in a pot of sadness until they're up and well done when there's something they can motherfucking do about it."

Equius's blood froze. "Sometimes up and removing a self like that can be real bad, bro. I seen it. It can be real motherfucking bad," the boy continued. Equius could hardly hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. He recoiled almost instantly, the words emitted before he could stop them.

"What could you possibly know about the damage that can be done through the removal of a critical piece of one's life?"

The boy's features hardened as much as they could in their drugged stupor. "A motherfucking lot, bro. But its over now...it up and stopped like a motherfucking train at the miracle station and I got motherfucking off."

With each passing second, Equius found himself more unable to refrain from listening to the boy. He felt a hierarchy he hadn't had to use in quite a long time resurfacing and, alarmingly, placing the boy one notch above Equius. _How can this boy have a more prosperous life than my own? With his problems only in the past and enough money to spend on such frivolities as hallucinogens?_ Images danced in front of his eyes, the increasingly higher numbers printed on receipts and the increasingly lower numbers neatly and uncompromisingly typed and labelled with the dread word, _balance_.

With a sigh, Equius resigned himself to his newfound position below this boy of all people. The boy was talking again. "I don't think I ever got around to up and saying my name. It's Gamzee. Isn't that just the motherfucking most beautiful name you've ever heard? It just floats around in your head like a little butterfly. Cute little motherfucker, isn't he?" He paused, taking in Equius's look of submission. "Now, what is the problem, my brother, so I may enlighten you in the ways of the miracle? And don't be all up and hesitant, bro."

Forced by the rule of his own lists, Equius began to speak. "I believe that I have deeply emotionally injured one whom I know nothing about, and I seek to alleviate myself of the guilt by either allowing it to fade or by some other method which I do not dare think of."

"That sure is one motherfucker of a problem, bro." The boy contemplatively scratched the side of his face. "Did you up and consider apologizing?"

Equius found himself unable to retain eye contact. "I believe that any such foray into the social world would result in deepening her wound and instilling a new one upon myself."

"That makes no motherfucking sense, bro. Your words just sorta swirl up into a great big puddle of confusion and anger. You gotta let it go, bro. You gotta let it up and be a free motherfucker and fly away and shit. Besides, bro, apologizing has never up and hurt anybody. They're just the kindest motherfucking miracles that the mirthful messiahs created."

Equius frowned. He wasn't even sure if he remembered how to apologize. But before he could further his conversation with Gamzee, the boy was gone. He had found a new target: a very short, very angry boy who was shouting down everyone in the room. Equius, for some reason that he could not fathom, found himself suddenly consumed by fear for the girl in question, whose name he still did not know. She was being comforted by two older girls, who huddled protectively around her.

The boy, after having been temporarily distracted by Gamzee, turned to shout one more rude remark at the trio before skulking into himself again. As he saw the girl cringe deeper into the folds of her enormous jacket, tears wetting her face once more, a feeling he couldn't immediately identify rose up more fiercely than any emotion save anger had in quite some time. Almost unconsciously, he began systematically analyzing the feeling, returning once again to his lists.

It was not happiness, obviously. It was not sadness either. It was not anger, or fear. It was rather similar to distress, and even closer to worry. For a panicked moment he contemplated whether it was love, but he quickly dispelled his fears. It was closest, perhaps, to pity, but even that was not the correct word. There seemed to be no single word in his immediate arsenal that could fully envelope what it was that had so instantaneously consumed him.

Without even fully realizing it, Equius began wondering how to word an apology.

His mind instantaneously rebelled. _What is it that you believe such an action would accomplish? It would only show her that you believe her to be superior to you, and it would also cause you to question your own integrity and righteousness. This in turn would throw your very self-image out of balance and..._

His tirade was brought to a halt as a girl dressed in flamboyant pink stood suddenly and crossed the room to tower over Nepeta. One of the girls protecting her glared at the newcomer fearfully, still seemingly incapable of speaking. The other did not seem to notice the presence. As for Nepeta, her eyes were determinedly shut as she tried to dispel her tears.

"What a group of miserable lowlifes." The girl was cockily resting her hands on her hips. At the sound of her voice Nepeta's eyes flew open, terror and confusion mixing in her expression. The girl who was not apparently mute, whom Equius finally identified as a Terezi Pyrope, snarled over her shoulder.

"Why don't you go terrorize someone else? We aren't interested."

The girl smiled wider, her eyes calculating. "Hmm, such a shame. Looks like you don't have a choice."

Nepeta managed to speak up. "W-wait. Aren't you...that g-girl who tri-ied to h-help me?"

She seemed to think about it for a moment. "Funny, I don't think there's anyone in this room that answers to that name. Certainly not me." She grinned again. "My name is Feferi, and if I were you, I'd remember it."

Terezi cut in again. "We don't care who you are, we just want you to leave us the fuck alone. Is that too much for your brain to comprehend?"

Equius could easily imagine the sound of glass breaking in the dead silence that followed. Feferi's outward cockiness transformed into something much baser. "You don't...care?" Anger seethed through her voice.

"Looks like you finally got it. Congratulations." Terezi turned back to Nepeta.

Even though Kanaya and Nepeta could both see, there was no time to warn Terezi of the kick that knocked her onto her side, leaving her gasping for air. "Oh, believe me, you care who I am you little fucker." Her foot connected with Terezi's side once again, and she cringed away from it, moaning. Kanaya paled, seemingly frozen in horror, and Nepeta began beating futilely at Feferi's leg.

Equius turned to look for the secretary and, with slight shock, discovered that she had vanished. _Of all inopportune times._ He frowned, struggling against himself.

_Don't bother. You are above such petty squabbles._

Nepeta's punches, while doing little injury, did gain Feferi's attention. She turned on the smaller girl, eyes wild and menacing.

_Don't intervene. You will only tarnish yourself._

She brought her foot back.

_Do not–_

Feferi's kick landed hard in Nepeta's stomach. She coughed feebly, her eyes wide from shock as she reeled backwards. Equius could almost swear he saw droplets of blood fly from her mouth.

In an instant he was there, towering over Feferi even in her obscene heels. His voice was even, deep. "I would advise you to leave her alone."

Feferi turned once more to face down her new adversary, but balked visibly when she found him. He stared coldly into her eyes, and for a moment indecision seemed to cross through them. Then it passed.

"Why should I?"

"Because if you don't I will have to...deal with you myself." His hands clenched into fists, his shoulder muscles tensing in anticipation.

A million thoughts whirled through Feferi's mind. At last, one screamed louder than the others._ Outnumbered._ With furious regret, she stepped back. Her glare seemed lost on the enormous figure that threatened her. She shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder and laughing.

"Fine. She wasn't worth my time anyway." As quickly as she had come, she sauntered across the room and took up her original post once more. As soon as she had gone, Nepeta turned her attention to Terezi, who was still gasping for breath.

"Terezi...are you okay?" Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. Terezi's reply was incoherent but seemed positive. Once she had ascertained that her friend was recovering, she turned to stare fearfully at Equius.

Equius cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, then lost his words and closed it once more. Finally, Nepeta spoke.

"Are you going to hurt me, too?"

Equius shook his head, appalled. "Of course not. The thought of additionally injuring you did not cross my mind." He swallowed again, trying and failing to form words to convey his apology. "I–that is, I would like to express..." Sweat beaded on his brow. Nepeta cringed away, hiding behind Terezi's prone body. "I would like to express the sincerest of apologies for my behaviour earlier in the day." The sweat trickled down his face as his words seemed to hover in the air in anticipation. Nepeta appeared shell-shocked. She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by an unexpectedly vehement shout from behind the secretary's desk.

"_You weren't born a mistake!_"

Instantly, Nepeta's eyes widened and she retreated into her coat once more, mumbling something Equius could not hear and refusing to look at him. The shout was followed quickly by a subdued voice, saying, "Go back to talking among yourselves, please." Before the situation could become any more awkward, Equius turned on his heel and stalked away from Nepeta.

_See? Your efforts have accomplished nothing except to make you feel foolish. You have not helped her, and your apology has proven useless._ With absolute resignation, he sank into his chair once more.

He hardly noticed the bell when it rang. He slowly got to his feet, shuffling out of the room with the rest and careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

What he did not know was that for one small girl in an olive coat, another stone had been lifted from her back and, perhaps even more importantly, a single question flickered into existence.


	16. Home Life: Karkat

As much as his encounter with the strange girl in the office made him angry to think about, Karkat couldn't get his mind away from it. He hardly paid any mind to the students thronging by which usually annoyed him to no end. He even flicked his locker open almost absently, the lock which usually gave him so much trouble hardly bothering him today. When a clumsy student ran into him a bit as they passed, he didn't even turn to yell at them.

_"They tell me that you have to be the leader in this."_

The sentence just kept repeating itself in his head, a broken record machine that he couldn't turn off. It puzzled him that he couldn't ignore it. Even irritated him. _I've been able to ignore everything else my whole fucking life. Why not this?_ But every time he put it out of his mind, he would be thinking about it only a minute later. And it was driving him mad.

He didn't even remember getting on the bus. Only when the squeak of the air release and the groan of the wheels being set in motion momentarily jolted him out of his reverie did he realize where he was. And even then, he could not stop himself from drifting once more into his thoughts.

The first thing that confused him about the sentence was quite literally the first part._ They tell me._ The more he thought about it, the more nervous that part made him feel. Who? She didn't exactly seem like the kind of girl to have a bunch of friends. And even if she did, why would they tell her something so odd?_ People don't just tell other people 'Hey, you're going to meet this guy, Karkat, and he needs to lead all these people he's never fucking met.'_

So who had told her then? _The way she said it, it sounded like she meant–_

_Now don't be an idiot, Karkat._ His reason cut in before he could even finish such a ridiculous thought. _You know that can't possibly be what she meant. People don't really hear voices in their head. If they do, or think they do, or whatever, then they go to a loony bin. Not high school._

The second thing that bothered him was the last part. _You have to be the leader in this._ Leader in what exactly? There had been a lot of people with what they thought were problems in that room, but why should he be the one who has to do anything except tell them to fuck off? And lead them? He wasn't even allowed to help with the chores around his house. How could he lead a bunch of teenagers anywhere except off a cliff?

"Hey _albino._" The word was followed by a myriad of stifled giggles. "You gonna get off or what?" Every thought process in his brain shut down as the word hit him. He tried to suppress the almost instinctive cringe. Briefly, Karkat considered a biting comeback, but all of the fire had been taken out of him. He stiffly descended the stairs, all the while the word flaring in his vision. _Albino._

His mind automatically reverted to its basic routine. The one that took over whenever Karkat was afraid. The one that he had been conditioned to have, trained to have. _Stop calling me that. I'm not defined by it. Stop calling me that. I'm not defined by it._

His thoughts were again shattered as a small, quick beep emitted from what looked like a green blur just a bit up the hill but what he knew to be his parents' car. He sighed and trudged onward. He expertly opened the door before sullenly collapsing into the back seat. He didn't bother buckling his seatbelt. His parents instantly launched into their usual blither.

"Hey, honey, how was school? Are your sunburns any worse today? You remembered to keep your coat on all day, right? Look at you, you're so red! You mustn't work yourself too hard, dear, you'll hurt yourself."

"Hey kiddo, good to see you. You're listening to your mother, right? Don't forget to buckle your seatbelt, young man. I won't have you live through seventeen years of you know what just to die from something as silly as not wearing a seatbelt. I won't start the car until I hear it click, you know. There, that's better."

And then the symphony came together. "Now honey, your father and I received another call from the office this afternoon."

"Yes, is there anything you'd like to say about that?"

"Well, honey? That nice lady at the office said you...was it that he yelled at a teacher this time? Or was that last time?"

"I think that was this time."

"Well anyway, honey, if there's ever anything you want to talk about, you know you can talk to us."

"That's right, and we're still not blaming you. We know it must be hard being you know what. You just can't help yourself. Don't worry, you'll grow out of it." His dad's eyes widened as he realized what he had said. "The temper, I mean," he quickly amended.

Karkat did his best to ignore them as they drove the one block to their house. After they parked the car, and his mom opened the door, his dad grabbed one arm, muttering, "Here, let me help you to the door." As much as he wanted to pull away and yell and scream, he didn't. He let his dad lead him into the house, resigning to his fate.

His dad took him into the living room and helped him sit down on the couch. Then his mom and dad sat in the chairs across from him. There was a lot of fuss, "Can you see me, dear? I can move closer if you can't see me well.", but eventually they got to the point.

"Karkat, your mom and I have been talking."

Before they could continue, Karkat finally inserted himself into the conversation. "When will you let me walk home from the bus stop?" His tone was challenging, the kind that comes from anger that has been contained for too long.

His parents froze, twin looks of shock on their faces. His mom spoke. "Honey, how could you even talk about something like that? You're too...well, you know perfectly well that your you know what makes you fragile. You can't walk all the way home, you'll get sunburned! And what if something worse happens! You know you can't see very well. You could easily get hurt. We don't want that to happen, right dear?"

His father nodded in agreement. "Don't bring something so silly up again, alright? Now don't interrupt me. Your mom and I were talking earlier about your being sent to the office so much. We think that it might be best if you took a break from school. We could homeschool you for the rest of junior and maybe even senior year. Because, well...it seems that the world is maladjusted to you. It doesn't understand you like we do."

His mom cut in. "So we'll be sending in a request to get you taken out of school at the end of this week, and then you'll never have to go to that awful school again. What do you think, darling?"

Karkat couldn't speak, couldn't barely breathe. He felt as though he were spiralling down into the pit again. He didn't even realize that he was speaking until he was almost done with the sentence. "...take care of myself for once?"

His parents were flabbergasted. The silence that fell over them was deadly, creeping and ominous. Karkat didn't stop.

"You always think that I need your help. You're always putting sunscreen on me and making me wear this stupid coat and hat and do you know what that makes me feel like? It makes me feel weak. It makes me feel useless. It makes me feel like a mistake. I'm seventeen years old for fuck's sake, don't you think I can walk one fucking block home from the bus stop?"

"That's enough, Karkat. Your you know what is making you angry again. Just calm down."

Karkat didn't dare stop now that he'd finally gained his voice. "And that's another thing. You don't seem to see the difference between me and my albinism." His parents both cringed at the word. It only made Karkat angrier. His voice slowly rose. "I know that I have albinism, and it is the fucking worst thing imaginable. You can't know what it's like, so your answer is to tiptoe around it and treat it like it's something to pity me for. But it isn't. So stop treating me like I'm dying, like I'm fragile, like I'm something to be fucking cared for and not a human being. I can take care of my fucking self." He stopped, gauging his parents. And he saw the look of pity, the empty smiles and empty eyes that told him more than everything that they could say. He made one final bid. "You are the ones who taught me to think that I am not defined by my albinism. Maybe you should take some of your own fucking advice."

He didn't wait for their answers, their insistence that it was the albinism talking and that he shouldn't be held responsible for anything. He was down the hall and in his room before they could even formulate responses.

It killed him to admit it, but sometimes he wished that his parents would just punish him. Would make him do the laundry or wash the dishes or anything at all. He wanted to be a person and not a problem in their lives. But as long as he could remember, that hadn't been the case. And he hated it.

He could hear his parents arguing in the living room. Whenever they thought he couldn't hear them, they started. They always pretended to be so perfect, too perfect, when he was around but in reality he knew that they couldn't stand each other. They should have divorced years ago but they hadn't because they both agreed on one thing; Karkat couldn't take care of himself. It was not physically possible, according to them.

_But what are they going to do when I graduate? When I'm a legal adult? Will they force me to stay? Confine me here with thousands of pleading and doctor's notes and lies?_ And the darker questions._ If I go, will they be right? That I can't take care of myself? No one will want to hire me. What if I end up coming back here even after I have successfully left it all behind because I really am as useless as they seem to think?_

The yelling was getting louder. He didn't even bother trying to decode what the argument was about this time. It didn't matter. Every time he ever did bring up one of their arguments, they played dumb. They pretended they were the perfectly happy kind of family that doesn't exist. _Because I'm 'too fragile to know the truth, honey'._

As he lay on the bed hating his life, and hating the tears that fell down his cheeks, and hating the sounds of his parents arguing again, he came to a decision. Even with all of his doubts and his fears, he knew that he could not submit to his parents any longer. They would sugarcoat and pet and comfort away what little he had in the way of independence, and then he would never be free. So he had to send them a message.

His parents would want him to do anything but keep going to school, taking 'risks'. They even discouraged him from talking with people because they thought that would cause him to hate his albinism even more than he already did. So he resolved to himself to do everything in his power to defy that.

_My parents think that I'm weak. Well, I'll show them that I can be strong. I'll show them that I can be my own person, that albinism really doesn't confine and define me. And I have until the end of the week to do it...I guess that means I'll have to find that girl, Aradia, tomorrow._

And even though part of him didn't want to find her, and part of him was terrified that his parents were right, he felt more sure about this decision than he had felt about anything in a long time. Finally, he had a purpose.


	17. Home Life: Aradia

A crisp afternoon breeze slipped idly through Aradia's mass of unkempt black hair as she meandered slowly down the sidewalk. Her step was uneven and her gaze rested on nothing for longer than a moment. She was smiling, but her smile was offputting in a way that couldn't be explained with words. The few people she met on the street huffed past her a bit too quickly, heads down and hands in their pockets. She hardly noticed.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry." Aradia blinked contritely, her head nodding mechanically.

_You mustn't scare the boy. As we told you before, he is important._

"I thought it would be alright to make the teacher go away. Wasn't I right?" She rounded a corner and began such a smooth rise up the stairs to the door of her house, a passer-by would have thought she was levitating. Her skirt billowed about her, giving her an ethereal presence.

_It was not directly necessary to our plans. Luckily, it did not ruin them. You will be more careful in the future._

The doorknob wouldn't turn in Aradia's hand. She sighed, the corners of her smile turning down ever so slightly. "She's locked me out again, you know. Why must she do that?" She placed her hand around the doorknob and closed her eyes.

_She doesn't understand you. She is just like everybody else._ There was a soft click. Aradia opened her eyes, which were glazed over once more. Quietly, she opened the door.

The inside of the house smelled of incense, and there was no light at all save a pair of candles placed on a low table in the corner. Hunched over the table, clutching something to her chest and sobbing, was Aradia's mother. She was dressed only in a robe, and her hair was up in an untidy bun that leaned dangerously to one side and was secured by two, haphazardly placed long pins. When she heard the door open, she turned wildly to face Aradia. The candles illuminated her face, haggard and frantic, as she screamed unintelligibly at her daughter. Although she tried her hardest to ignore it, Aradia felt her easy trance slipping away and the knot of buried pain reasserting itself in her throat.

_She's calling you a demon child. She says she wants you to go back to hell, where you came from._

"Stop it," Aradia whispered pleadingly to the voices. "Just stop it." Her mother's eyes widened impossibly, staring fearfully at Aradia for only a moment longer before whirling back around to murmur even more feverishly over the candles. As she turned, the light of the candle glinted off the item she had clutched so close to herself before: a rosary.

_Why don't you tell her to stop? We're not the ones saying the evil things. We're only translating for your benefit._

"Maybe you're right." As if permission from the voices was all she had needed, anger seeped through the cracks of her pain until it was all she could feel. She took a step towards her mother, the old floor creaking under her weight. Her mother cringed and the mutterings became louder, but she refused to look at her daughter. "Maybe I should tell her what I think."

_That's right. Let out your anger. It will make you feel better._

"Yes, it will make me feel better." She grabbed her mother's shoulder and forced her to turn, to look at her in the face. Her mother glared defiantly up at her, but there was a glint of fear and a tightening of her fist around the beads of the rosary that Aradia couldn't help but notice.

_Tell her how angry she makes you feel._

"Do you know that you make me very angry? They want me to tell you that you make me _very_ angry. You make me sad, too."

_Tell her how rejected you felt when she found out._

"You know, I didn't choose to be like this. They want you to know that I felt so sad when you told me you hated me. When you stopped talking to me and started praying and speaking only in Latin. When you tried to exorcise me as if I were a demon, when you started locking me out of the house."

_Tell her that it's not your fault. Tell her that it's her fault._

"I didn't choose to be like this. I've always been like this. You were the one that made me like this." The picture frames on the walls of the room began to shake, rattling against the wall like a horde of wasps. "I didn't have any choice in this. I don't like this." The candles on the table in the corner began to flicker, dancing faster and faster. "You always blame me for what I can do. But it's your fault. It's your fault." The candles flickered out all at once, and every picture on the wall clattered noisily to the floor as the room was thrown into total darkness. "It's your fault!"

Aradia was breathing heavily, her anger seething hotly through her veins. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and she saw her mother's accusatory face staring coldly at her. She sneered at Aradia for a moment before brandishing her rosary and flicking it repeatedly at Aradia's face. "Is ex, spiritus malus," she spat.

Aradia turned quickly on her heel, allowing the trance to fall over her again easily, protecting her from the harsh words of her mother. She quickly floated down the hall, flicking the lights on as she passed and smiling as her mother's soft cry of pain at the sudden change of light reached her ears.

The walls of her room brought an instant comfort to her, washing her anger away as the door clicked quietly shut. The faded red walls brought back memories of the time before, when her life had been normal and peaceful. She let herself fall onto her bed, staring up at the marks on the ceiling where her hand had pounded into the flimsy material while jumping on the mattress long ago. Her mother had scolded her for it, but it had been nothing like this. Nothing like the abyss that yawned between them now.

_It isn't your fault that she hates you. You didn't choose this for yourself._

"But what if I did? What if I brought this on myself?"

_You did not, we can assure you. She gave it to you. It's her disease, and it infected you before you could have known to stop it._

Aradia curled up, burying her face in her knees to hide herself from the world. "I know you're lying to me. You always lie." She forced her eyes shut. "Stop lying to me! You aren't even _real_, and everything you say to me is a lie. None of you are real!"

Something seemed to break, to shatter into a million pieces that could never be reassembled. Aradia waited for a reply, but none came. As she realized what she had done, tears of shock and horror streaked down her face, making small circles on the covers of her bed where they fell.

"Please come back..." her voice was broken, only a weak whisper. A voice spoke in her head, but it was not the comforting multitude of voices that had advised her since she was young. It was her only her own thoughts, her own voice.

_They aren't coming back. And even if they do, you know they're a lie. You've always known they are a lie. You never had any voices in your head. Do you know what you did have, though? Loneliness. And terror. You are terrified of yourself, aren't you? Terrified of what you can do. And when you were the most terrified, and the only person you could count on for help was your mother, she turned her back on you. And now you will do anything, anything at all, to stop being alone._

"Stop it. Just stop..." Her tears continued to fall, a symphony of sadness that could only be heard by those who were wise enough to listen.

_And now that you've admitted it to yourself, you can't go back, can you? You'll always know that your voices, your 'friends', were a lie that you told yourself. A bedtime story that you could tell yourself once your mother stopped telling you hers._

"Stop it, please..."

_You will be alone forever. No one will ever love you, and you will be alone._

"_STOP IT!_" As the words left her lips, Aradia held her breath, waiting for her own mind to torment her once more. But it was silent. In fact, everything was silent. The ticking of the clock from the next room had stopped. The quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen had ceased. Even the incessant barking of her neighbors dog had been silenced. The only sound in the world was the feverish chanting of her mother in the living room.

"What have I done?" Her voice had reverted to a whisper once more. As she allowed herself to breathe again, the noises of life slowly began once more, but nothing could rid Aradia of the memory of the silence. Her thoughts raced, and although the tormenting side of her mind had said it's piece, the terrified part had yet to start. As she lay unmoving on her bed, one thought repeated itself over and over.

_You are a monster and you will never be loved._

_You are a monster and you will never be loved._

_You are a monster and you will never be loved._

_You are a monster and you will never be loved._

_You are a monster and you will never be loved._

What seemed like hours later, Aradia at last sat up. Her limbs were weak and stiff from lying still, and her face was caked with dry tears. The sounds of her mother's praying had died out long before, and the light of the sun had faded into the piercing rays of the moon. Slowly, Aradia stood and walked to the door, out of her room, and into the living room. With each step, she felt the familiar sense of someone besides herself forcing her to move return, and with it the comfort with which it was always coupled. She drifted through the room to the corner directly opposite her mother's table with its scented candles and prayer books. Careful not to make a sound, she rolled back the carpet to reveal a deck of tarot cards and a Ouija board. She replaced the carpet and silently took the items back to her room.

With the lights turned off and the moon shining through her window and onto the floor, she placed one finger on the Ouija board. "Please forgive me. I was being a fool earlier. I promise to comply with your every command now if you will only return."

Her hand swept across the board faster than the eye could catch, but somehow she was able to understand perfectly the message. _**Of course we will return. You are nothing without us.**_

"And you won't leave me this time?"

_**We will leave if you refuse our assistance.**_

"I promise I won't."

Her hand returned itself to her side, and the voices spoke in her mind once more. _Excellent. Then we have an agreement._

Aradia shoved the Ouija board away and smiled absently into the darkness. "Yes." Taking the tarot cards in hand, she almost religiously shuffled the deck.

_You must listen to everything we tell you._

She placed three cards on the floor, face down. "Don't worry. I won't be a fool again. I swear on my life."

Had anyone been able to see her smile, it would have put terror in their heart.


	18. Home Life: Tavros

The slight jostling of the bus rumbling over every inconsistency in the asphalt reverberated through the metal of the chair, amplifying it to the point of insanity. Tavros tried to ignore it, eyes shut tightly to keep unwanted thoughts out, but the shivering of the frame of the bus continued to rattle what parts of his spine could still sense such things. The feeling was nauseating, and coupled with the darkness it was more than he could bear. He begrudgingly opened his eyes, letting them gaze out the window without focusing on anything.

_Hey there, Tav old pal. You seem awfully sad about something. Gee, I wonder what it could be? Hmmm..._

The bus pulled cautiously over to the curb, the quick-moving blur of city red and industrial grey becoming more pronounced as it slowed. The driver and his assistant looked disgustedly back at him. He returned their stares with a deceptively realistic lack of emotion. A quick flip of an unseen switch turned the warning lights on, blinking every few seconds to warn passing cars of the bus.

_You know what those lights do for people don't they? They're kind of like neon signs. "Hey everybody! Look! It's a handicapped kid who can't get out of the bus by himself! Don't you want to stare and giggle?"_

The side doors of the bus clattered harshly against the chipped yellow exterior as the assistant shoved them roughly aside. The platform Tavros's wheelchair was on began to slowly descend.

_This thing really likes to take its time, doesn't it? Well, that's alright. It gives you more time to look at the flowers and the sky and take in the beauty of everything. Oh yeah, and it gives people more time to stare at you and realize what an absolute waste of time you are. Aren't you glad it goes so slowly?_

He finished securing his backpack to the back of his wheelchair just as the platform finally reached the worn and cracked cement of the sidewalk. As quickly as he could, he released the brakes and pushed himself off the unfeeling metal. Within seconds he was gone, winding his way with all the speed he could muster through the last few twists and turns that would bring him to the apartment building where he lived.

_Well somebody sure is excited to get home! You know what? Your brother is probably there. He's going to be so nice to you, I just know it. I mean, he never says anything mean to you, right? He's not the kind of brother that rightfully thinks you are an idiot and constantly reminds you of everything you've ever done wrong. Of course he isn't._

The automatic doors of the building pulled back like the maw of a great beast, and Tavros slid in between them with a feeling of complete resignation to his fate. The girl at the front desk smiled at him and waved tentatively. He looked away, concentrating on the elevators. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl bite her lip, her eyes focused on him for a few moments before she returned to organizing the paperwork that had been haphazardly thrown into the various boxes around the desk.

Tavros depressed the elevator call button, trying to ignore the feeling in his gut that he should have said something to the girl. _Gee, couldn't even muster a hello or anything. It's like you're afraid she'll laugh at your complete failure of a life or something. Lighten up, it's not like you're handicapped. Oh wait. Yes you are._ The voice in his head never ceased taunting him. He pressed the call button again. Every second seemed to last an eternity, and he could feel the girl staring at him again.

_Just say something. Say hello. Go ahead. I dare you._

_"Come on Tav, I dare you. I dare you to drive as close to the edge of the cliff as you can. Come on. I dare you."_

_I dare you._

The doors to the elevator slid away, and he wheeled himself on. By the time he had managed to turn himself around to face the opening, the doors had already closed. With a bit of a reluctance, he pushed the button for the top floor. And again, he was met with the silence and the rumbling of moving platforms.

The hallway was long, but Tavros's arms were more than able to negotiate the twisting expanse that led to the apartment. At last he found himself staring up at the worn and chipped number, cast in slightly raised gold-colored metal.

_I bet your brother left the door unlocked for you. He's thoughtful like that, right?_

The doorknob wouldn't turn. With an ever-growing sense of dread, Tavros knocked on the door. There was no response.

_He must be at the very back of the apartment. He'd never leave his stupid, invalid brother stranded in the hallway, would he?_

Another knock. This time Tavros strained his ears. His heart sank as he heard the sounds of muffled laughter from just through the door.

"R-rufioh?" The name came out as barely a whisper, cracking halfway through. More laughter ensued.

_Great work, Tav! That'll convince him to let you in for sure!_

"Rufioh, you better...uh...let me in r-right now." This time his voice was so quiet, he doubted that his brother had heard him at all. A few seconds passed, and the laughter became louder. Tavros thought he could pick out a feminine laugh. He closed his eyes, trying not to cry. He knocked again.

The door opened the few inches that the chain would allow. Rufioh peered down at Tavros, all six feet plus six inches of mohawk. His lip was curled in disgust that passed almost instantly into mock astonishment.

"Sorry, Tav, I didn't hear you out there." The feminine laughter, harsh and abrasive, wafted out the open door. Rufioh's facade broke, and he smiled. He slammed the door, unlatched the chain, and then threw the door open carelessly. "Better come inside," his brother called over his shoulder.

Tavros wheeled cautiously into the living room. As he passed his brother, a sudden blow to the wheelchair caused him to nearly tip over. The laughter emanating from the couch caught Tavros's attention, and he found himself looking at a rather scantily clad young woman stretched out full length. She clasped a cigarette between two fingers, and the scent from it didn't smell like nicotine. "Rufioh, is this your brother? He's so..." The girl trailed off, exhaling smoke-laden breath slowly.

Rufioh couldn't be bothered to respond to the girl. "Sorry, bro, I didn't mean to kick you." As he said it, he kicked again, harder. Tavros yelped in terror as the chair tipped forward and he fell against the poorly-carpeted wood floor. His chin connected directly with the wood, and blood filled his mouth as his teeth clamped suddenly shut on his tongue. He spat, hacking blood onto the carpet and crying from the pain and the embarrassment. The world was a whirlwind of laughter and blurred colors and unbearable self loathing, and all Tavros could do was lie on the floor and let it take him and drown him.

"Did you kill him?" The girls voice was high-pitched and obnoxious, just above him.

"Nah, he's made of steel. I mean, he fell off a cliff and survived."

"Really...is that so?" He barely registered the blow to his head because all it did was make the colors blur more and spin faster.

"Don't waste your time with him. You've got me." Tavros's tears of pain turned to tears of relief as his brother and the girl disappeared into Rufioh's room, accompanied by more giggling.

_Look at poor little Tavros, all beaten down. Tsk tsk, laying on the floor crying. What a waste of space. What a stupid lump. He should have died when he drove off that cliff._

You should have died when you drove off that cliff. Isn't it fun to realize the truth, Tav?

Somehow, he managed to pull himself back into the chair. Somehow, he got himself through the living room and into his bedroom. Somehow, he managed to wait until he had closed the door and crawled out of the chair and onto his bed before giving into the fresh round of tears and sobbing.

Later on, his parents came home. He hadn't moved. The girl was gone, and Rufioh was passed out in his room, smelling of pot. His mother found him, face red and tear-stained but eyes blank. She asked him about the blood, and he told her that he had bitten his tongue. That it had been an accident. She asked about the bruise on the side of his head, and he mumbled something about gym. She didn't question further, and his father didn't have time to. Tavros could just barely hear him rustling up something to eat for dinner before rushing out to his night job.

His mom, too, had to go. She made him promise to be more careful. He nodded, smiled, pretended that everything was alright. But it wasn't. Nothing was.

_It's too bad that your parents have to go out to work more. Then maybe you could tell them about what really happened. Darn those stupid night jobs...why is it that they have them again? Oh right, they have to pay off the enormous loan they took out so they could send you to a good hospital. I remember._

Tavros lay awake a long time that night, just staring at the ceiling and seeing nothing at all.


End file.
